


Without Words

by CreamMoon



Series: Without Words [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), BAMF Arthur, BAMF Merlin, BAMF Morgana, Bamf everybody really, Barebacking, Bottom Arthur, Bottom Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Frottage, M/M, Masturbation, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, The little mermaid - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-29
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-03-25 09:31:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 50
Words: 70,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3805450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CreamMoon/pseuds/CreamMoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Uther’s war on magic comes to an abrupt end when Rheged invades and cuts their way straight into the throne room. Ousting the remainder of the old monarchy is priority, and making a public example is even better, so the new royalty of Camelot arranges for Prince Arthur’s public execution.</p><p>The remainders of Camelot’s knights manage to save him from being killed but he is eventually alone and friendless, fleeing Camelot on foot. Collapsing in a bordering town a few of the villagers seek to help him… though one thing bars them from doing so.</p><p>Arthur’s means of communication have been cursed away, left mute and unable to write a single word without lighting a fire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Woe

Arthur could not have contained his sobs of pure agony as he observed the wide and still gushing gash that had opened his father’s throat, the dethroned King tossed aside to bleed out on the floor of the throne room as the invaders looked on.

They had won.

Camelot was now firmly beneath the heel of Rheged’s Mad King and his Witch Queen, Ywain and Modron, the invasion itself seemingly orchestrated by their eldest daughter and youngest son, Morfydd and Urien. Both wielded magic with such ease that it had taken just the two of them to blow through nearly all of Camelot’s knights, the remainder surely taken care of by those who had trailed behind.

It seemed though of magic Urien had no qualms with ending the line of Pendragon all over the floor with the edge of a blade, if only for the show of it.

Arthur felt his stomach pitch as his gaze once again found the red spattered across the stone floor. He was going to be sick… and they were laughing. 'Mad as their father,' he supposed bleakly.

But instead of being sick down his front he found hoarse curses and vile names dripping from his lips instead, his eyes ablaze in the face of the futility of the entire situation. He was going to die right here, right now, on the floor of his home beside his father and he couldn’t even move to fight it. Morfydd held him pinned with magicked up chains, made to kneel in a mockery of true, royal supplication. His voice rose with every word till he was screaming through the tears that just continued to pour, though now less of mourning and more of a rage induced variety.

He was going to die. He was going to die spitting and snapping about how Morfydd was a seed guzzling hag from the darkest slum and how her brother’s cock was probably rotten with leprosy, bound to fall off him any second under those breeches.

The words kept falling even when one (or perhaps it had been both) shouted for his silence, the bound Prince completely unable to still his tongue.

Searing hot pain did it for him as suddenly power encircled his neck, Morfydd’s hand outstretched as her eyes burned terrifying gold.

“Enough.” She spat, a tired refrain by that point. “I would have left the dignity of it given your fate but I don’t see much point in it now.”

Jerking beneath the pain he felt fresh tears descending, the chains going tighter with his futile attempts to get away in any manner. “Enjoy the loneliness of your final hours, Arthur Pendragon, for not a soul will endure your presence again after dawn.”

***

In the dungeons laid on his side Arthur discovered just how much dignity she had left him with.

The witch had taken his voice for his rebellion… Not a sound could be made without white hot pain seizing him. It didn't matter.

But it did, even if he knew his fate. Even after everything, it cut him to the core to have one more thing of his stolen.

He found it only got worse when he took a stone to the wall, wanting to carve out perhaps some final words for himself. Arthur didn’t expect when the first letter took shape for the stone to light on fire. Thank goodness the dungeons were far too damp that night to get anything further started.

The prince just pressed his hands over his eyes and curled in the corner, willing the morning to never come.

***

At dawn he was pulled from his prison and paraded out to the square. He could recall that he’d seen many a sorcerer beheaded there, he never imagined that he one day would end up in that situation.

His stomach pitched again when he caught a fleeting glimpse of a crowned head on a pike… a yet unoccupied one beside it.

Somewhere in the background he could hear Urien addressing the crowd of citizens that had been rounded up to observe, annoyance twinging when he focused long enough beyond the axe he’d fixated on that the man had the gall to call his subjects the oppressed, as though those who lived in Camelot had been abused.

The glinting of the blade caught his attention again and he heard nothing more of the usurpers honeyed proclamations, his heart beating so loudly in his ears that he wanted to scream out for them to just take his head already and be done with it.

Shame he no longer had that right as he was bitterly reminded with a mere swallow.

Manhandled forward it seemed that Rheged’s spares had decided they’d had enough pandering to the common folk, the Prince made to bend before his executioner. The hooded man clenched at the hilt of his weapon with an odd, unwilling air about the action that Arthur surely must’ve imagined.

He was going to die.

Prince Arthur of Camelot, last of the Pendragons, was going to die by getting his head hacked off with an axe in front of an audience.

It had occurred to him at one point when he was much younger how disgusting a practice this was, but he only now realized just how utterly awful it was.

Then quite suddenly everything went mad and he could barely tell what was going on.

There was shouting of “RESIST!” as the courtyard dissolved into screaming hysterics.

Suddenly there were hands on him, dragging him through the chaos as he stumbled along, people everywhere and suddenly more than a few sounds of combat. He had no time to dwell on it though as his saviors ran him down the twisting corridors and alleyways all the way to a pair of horses, his fatigue addled brain finally realizing who was helping him.

The remnants of his knights had come at last. He had thought he’d seen Bedivere and Caradoc’s faces swimming in amongst the numerous peasants but he had dismissed it as mere wishful thinking. They sent him on with Leon, bolting as fast as they could away from his taken home.

They were not without pursuers, more than once finding riders behind them that bore the colors of Rheged, the shock of gray clad warriors never far behind. Even when they were well away they were still followed, and Leon urged him off his horse when they had a moment to spare, just past dusk. They would make a go of it on foot. Or at least Arthur would.

“I can draw them off, they’ll never be the wiser. Head for the border, I’ll meet you if I can.”

Arthur wanted to tell him what a great knight he’d become, to sing his praises before they parted but it was not to be. Throwing down protocol and rank he could only grab Leon and hug him tight, grimacing as he withdrew and giving the taller man a singular nod.

Deep inside he doubted they’d ever meet again.

Under the cover of oncoming night they headed in opposite directions, Leon sending the horses off with quick slaps against their behinds, giving Arthur one last look before disappearing into the woods as well.

The homeless prince wandered on as far as his feet could take him, barely stopping to breathe or even check if he could figure on where exactly he was going. He knew the border was near… it had to be.

Eventually his feet could carry him no further, the blonde barely seeing with the fatigue that gripped him. Perhaps he’d die anyway, even after all that.

Perhaps that was what was supposed to happen in the end.

With a soft thud the prince fell to the ground and wondered no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic was posted to ao3 on 2015-04-23, but is back dated to the original date it was created.


	2. Country Doctor

When he awoke he nearly thought himself back in the holdings of his enemies, noticing first his bindings and last the horse that trotted along beneath him. Blinking blearily he opened his mouth to demand an explanation, instantly regretting it when the raw and awful feeling from trying raced back into him, his eyes shutting tight against the pain.

Upon further observation he found that he could hear a cheerful sort of humming that he deduced must be the one leading the horse along. Kicking out and generally making as much useless movement as he possibly could Arthur hoped that was enough to draw the attention that was likely pointed away.

Unfortunately the humming continued without interruption.

Why did he have to have an inattentive git find him?

After about ten minutes of the same sort of flailing he finally managed to kick the horse (though purely by accident), making it give off an indignant whinny at it’s owner. Finally the infernal string of notes stopped and the man turned, pausing mid shush to the steed before halting them completely.

The tall, lanky man that came round the side to look at him seemed suitably stupid enough to have let him go unnoticed for so long. “Oh! You’re awake! Why didn’t you say something??”

Arthur just gave him a disgruntled look and squirmed. Honestly he wanted to knock him round the head more than anything right now despite his current status as “would-be-hero” by all accounts.

Muttering a quick “oh” the dark haired man jumped forward and undid the knots, careful to keep the blonde from falling when they were suitably loose. Grimacing as he slid off the steed he felt his legs wobble in an unpleasant way, the man peering over it’s back at him, letting go another “oh” moments later.

Bringing his eyes up and raising a questioning eyebrow at the unnamed man he found him gesturing to his throat. “No wonder… honestly I should’ve known, given who I am, but I guess I overlooked it in my hurry.”

Frowning the blonde reached up and rubbed his fingertips gently over his throat, looking perplexed at the other. The skin didn’t hurt, only what was inside ached when he tried to talk.

Looking at him with a horrible sympathy the man rounded his horse and patted Arthur gently on the shoulder, drawing awkward attention to something he hadn’t remembered very well. His tunic was cut to mere ribbons from the night before, the prince having had no time during the attack to get any sort of armor on.

“I’m Merlin, by the way. Sort of a stroke of luck I found you. Not many people use the old roads these days…” The man started to babble on about this and that and how the blonde had been sprawled out right in the thick of it and quite suddenly he felt his vision blurring and his head aching horribly.

Okay. Maybe he wasn’t in the clear yet.

Especially not if he found himself face first in the bloody chatterbox’s tunic, weak kneed and feeling like he was going to be sick all over him. Oh wouldn’t that be funny. He was sure Merlin’s stupid face would be absolutely horrified.

“Okay, okay no this definitely won’t do. Don’t pass out again on me, alright? Here…” Somehow the great beanpole of a man got him back up on the horse, though blast it if he knew how. A man who felt that slight should not possess a physical strength like that.

Sliding up into the saddle behind him he could hear Merlin mumbling apologies to his horse - Periwinkle apparently - before urging her forward and fast. Or at least it felt too fast for Arthur’s aching head.

After that there was a flurry of muffled voices and the world went dark.

***

Arthur came to around a day later, or at least that’s what he guessed by the faint light of dawn that filtered in through the windows of the unfamiliar cottage. Rolling off the low cot to his feet he found a few things inconveniently true: his tunic was gone, his head was still pounding, and it was bloody cold. Shivering some he managed to snag the blanket that had been covering him, wrapping it around his shoulders as he went in search of…

Well anyone, really. He had no idea where he was or whose home he’d been taken to after that idiot had got him back on the horse.

Wandering out he found that he was in a place he would never have expected, beyond those cobbled together walls. Outside the cottage lay a rather sizable lake, a boat not far off with unfortunately his infuriatingly daft savior settled in it, fishing rod in hand. He was humming again.

Striding out carefully he scarcely gave a thought to where his boots had gone, wading into the shallows of the lake, not really sure what possessed him to do so, the cold sinking it’s teeth further into him as he stared out at that man. Merlin.

He’d said his name was Merlin.

Well the morning light certainly put him in a better light, so to speak.

It wasn’t as if he was in any way remarkable.

At least this time he was quick to notice that he wasn’t alone, smiling brilliantly and waving vigorously… nearly falling out of the boat in the process.

Rolling his eyes a little he waved back, wondering if the fool would manage to drown himself before he made it to the shore.

Around ten minutes later he was being drawn back inside by the tall man, Merlin babbling on about this and that with his catch thrown over his shoulder with one hand and the other oddly pressed on Arthur’s back. Inside the cottage he stoked the fire and set to puttering about much like a much older man might’ve at such an hour. “You really gave me quite a fright the way you tumbled right over into me. Thought you might’ve had a concussion that I managed to miss just like the bruise around your neck.”

Arthur just found himself snorting in annoyance at the cheerful tone of voice Merlin was using. He really was quite odd… “Now, I’m a sort of physician around these parts, so maybe I can do something for that… Might be able to give you your voice right back if we’re lucky. You’re going to have to give me a bit of time to examine you though, I didn’t want to fidget with you while you were sleeping in case of rattling something important.”

Oh that was an unpleasant thought, being poked and prodded at by the bumbling, dark haired idjit. He seemed about ready to say more in the way of persuading the blonde to submit to such treatment but quite suddenly a woman ducked in the door, tall, dark, and pale much like Merlin was.

“Good morning, Merlin, how’s the-” She paused when she caught sight of him, fixing the exiled prince with a rather dazzling smile as her green eyes flicked over him. “I see he’s doing much better, have you managed to get his name?”

“Not yet, I did tell you his throat is damaged, Morgana.”

“Ah, yes you did… but I bet by those clothes he came in he’s also a learned man. I’m almost certain he’d know his letters.” She hummed pleasantly, fixing her sights on Merlin before letting out a short giggle. “Merlin, honestly, I don’t know why you continue to fidget with it like that.”

“I happen to like doing it the old fashioned way.” Merlin defended in a tired tone, continuing to work at building the fire.

“Yes well it’s quite annoying, especially when I’m so eager to find out our new friend’s name.” With an unsettling flick of her hand toward the fire it flared, Arthur’s mouth opening as if to scream when he saw her eyes, the man falling from his seat in his panic, scrambling back along the floor till he hit the wall, his hands flying to his throat as he curled in on himself.

He was going to die. She was a witch. Morgana was a witch and she was going to kill him!

Except nothing happened but the sound of hasty footsteps and the would-be physician suddenly dropping to his knees in front of him, reaching out and prying his hands away from his neck.

Arthur hadn’t realized he was practically choking himself in his panic.

“Focus now, you’re safe, everything is all right. Just breathe… Here… Try and follow mine, all right?” Merlin murmured soothingly, pressing one of the exiled prince’s hands to his chest so he could feel the rise and fall of his chest.

It seemed eons before he could breathe easy again, if it could be called that. He knew she was still there. He knew she was still looming at the back of the cottage like a great shadow… though her eyes had gone back to their mossy green rather than remaining that terrifying gold.

Overheated, the blonde found himself shrugging the blanket the rest of the way off himself, barely taking note that he still had an iron grip on one of Merlin’s hands. Nothing had happened to him yet. He was still alive…and so was Merlin.

"Well… now… I guess I have a good idea who gave you that.” Merlin hummed out slowly, giving Arthur an odd look that for some reason gave him comfort. Someone understood.

Merlin understood.


	3. Small Victories

When those blue eyes went wild with fright Merlin’s stomach pitched in a sympathetic manner that he’d never experienced before for a patient, his feet quick to move him forward to stop the man from strangling himself into unconsciousness as he panicked. So he hadn’t been wrong about that. He thought that bruising was too perfect to be made by mere mortal hands.

Finally working the blonde down from his frenzy he turned to Morgana, giving her a meaningful look though she appeared to be nonplussed, fixing him with a steely look. She wasn’t going to budge. “I’m not going to hurt him, Merlin. He should have the privilege of knowing it too.”

Merlin still really wanted her to leave but he knew there was nothing for it. When the Druid woman made up her mind she wouldn’t be deterred. Giving his patient’s hand a reassuring squeeze he finally turned his gaze back on him, giving him a smile to match. “Well you heard her… and I really can vouch. Morgana is a good soul.”

The shorter man didn’t look convinced, but honestly from what he’d guessed already he was fairly certain there was more than enough reason for his skepticism. It was fortunate he’d not been awake to see Merlin use his own powers.

After about an hour of coaxing the man was finally back in his seat again, blanket loosely thrown over his shoulders as he shoveled in every bit of food Merlin ended up offering him. He was glad that he’d had such an easy time getting fish that morning otherwise he suspected the man might’ve eaten him out of house and home. Eventually the three came back around to the original topic Morgana had been pressing about, the man looking at them with an odd apprehension when they asked him again if he knew his letters.

With a bit of wheedling (and perhaps some ill-advised intimidation from Morgana) he conceded, though when presented with a slip of parchment and charcoal he just screwed up his face and looked at Merlin pleadingly, though he honestly couldn’t figure out why.

Eventually the man seemed to get fed up with being unable to communicate whatever he was thinking he picked up the parchment and charcoal and headed out of the cottage without a backward glance.

Scrambling after him the two found him wading into the shallows of the lake, letting the water lap over his feet as he held the paper out just enough so they could see what he was doing.

Scribbling at the beginning of the paper just to make sure things would show dark enough he hurriedly scratched out across it what looked to be an A-R-T before the paper suddenly burst into flames, the man dropping it instantly as his fingers were scorched. The blonde hissed sharply and glared down at where the ashes fell, biting his bottom lip as he looked at his burned fingertips.

Well.

At least he did know his letters.

***

At some point Morgana and the man had gotten off on the wrong foot after the paper incident, his patient and his friend sharing a rather odd exchange over his table that consisted of more rude gestures than he liked to recognize.

Merlin supposed he should count it as a win, his patient no longer seeming frightened in the slightest by her presence.

“I’ll bet your name is Wart to match your awful personality.” She sniped at him finally, grinning as he looked indignant and mouthed something that looked like “disrespectful wench”. The shorter man then proceeded to follow that up with a highly over acted gesture of “I am” before mouthing what his name was at the Seer, who laughed as she repeated what she thought he had said. “Your name is Martha? Or was that Martyr maybe? I wouldn’t think any parents would have bad enough taste to name you that… No, really I think it really is best just to call you Wart.”

“Morgana you’re going to get him into a tizzy and if you do you are not leaving me alone to handle the after effects.” Merlin sighed as he brought over two cups of water to them, honestly regretting that he’d let the Druid woman stay that long. He had potions to make and errands to run and with her around nothing was bound to get done if he had to make sure she wasn’t going to run his patient into the ground again.

“Tizzy nothing! For a man with no voice he gets across his lack of manners quite well!” Morgana laughed, winking at his silent charge with a mischievous grin. “I’ll have to bring him to the attention of my parents, I’m sure they would be more than willing to help you with whatever is wrong with him, Merlin.”

Making a negative noise at the back of his throat he finally settled down beside the blonde, giving her a pleading look. “Please, I’m sure they’re very busy with their own problems at present. If it comes to it I will bring him to your people, but for now I think it’s better for him to remain away from sorcery, don’t you?”

The green eyed woman opened her mouth to protest but it died on her lips as she finally seemed to take note of his expression.

Merlin knew deep down that just because the man had tied down his fear of magic for the moment would not mean that it was tied forever. He needed more than a simple fix and a quick send off. Something like this was more than just a wound. His patient would need time to adjust and recognize that magic wasn’t always a means to hurt, that it had a good side as well.

The atmosphere inside his home felt uncomfortably thick after that, the focus indefinitely back on the unpleasant task at hand. Recognizing it Morgana quite suddenly found it necessary to take her leave, citing her brother’s lessons for the day as her need to flee.

***

Around noon Merlin finally guessed his patient’s name right, the two of them more than excited over it, the blonde practically doing a little dance right there when he said it.

Arthur.

His name was Arthur!

Shame Merlin was more than rubbish at reading lips otherwise he was sure he would’ve managed to fathom out whatever last name he might’ve had. But no matter, now they were officially acquainted and things seemed far brighter with the knowledge of his patient’s name.

Though Arthur’s smile probably had some effect on the brightness of the revelation. He looked rather radiant with it stretched from ear to ear.

After that they stumbled their way through some makeshift sign language that was over complicated at times on Arthur’s end of things, the man knowing many signals already for one reason or another that made little to no sense to Merlin. He mostly ended up laughing about it while the man just looked disgusted at him, the blonde eventually working out a simplified version of what he was aiming to say.

“Hey now, don’t go insulting me, Wart,” He teased with a cheeky grin, delighted with the furious look that flashed over Arthur’s face at the detestable nickname Morgana had left him with. “You should have a little more respect for someone who saved you.”

Arthur didn’t look impressed.

Eventually he understood a few things about the blonde haired prat: he was twenty five (a year older than Merlin), he fully intended to cuff Merlin upside the head if he ever called him Wart again, and that before he’d come into the physician’s care he’d been a swordsman of some fashion. Well… swordsman was putting it simplistically. Arthur had tried to sign to him something more than that but it had gone completely over his head as to what he was trying to say.

By the end of their lengthy charade Merlin found to his dismay that the day had wasted away without his notice. So much for errands and potion making… Arthur had completely eaten up all his attention and time. He supposed that was the curse of the physician’s creed…

After scrambling about to make arrangements for dinner and to make notes on what had to be done on the morrow he found that the blonde had one more thing to say to him before they were to retire, the somber look in Arthur’s eyes giving him an odd feeling in his chest.

In a strange and very surreal moment he found the man bowing low to him in a surprisingly graceful manner, apparently the only way he could figure on to express his gratitude properly without another hour of flighty hand movements.

It was… flattering, he supposed. A grand gesture by the look of it, especially given Arthur’s rather temperamental nature. That was really the only reason the words of denial didn’t make it out of his mouth. He really would’ve done this for anyone, thanks were not needed.

Smiling tightly when the blonde’s gaze came back up Merlin couldn’t help but feel like this man was going to be a lot of trouble.


	4. Suitable Work

It was always first thing in the morning when Arthur forgot that he no longer had a voice, the blonde each morning attempting to call out for the long gone servant that used to attend to him. Each morning he would grab at his throat as that burning spiked, flinching with his entirety just before a hand would come down and grab him. Merlin always seemed to be there now. It was…something he really didn’t want to think too hard about.

It had been a few weeks since he’d ended up with the man and the physician had tried every single thing in his repertoire (according to him), saying that it had been a bit of a long shot to expect conventional means to outdo or fix the effects of a lingering curse. It really only left one set of options and Arthur did his level best to avoid even having the subject come up. Merlin seemed to be understanding of the fact and kindly did not bring it up. At least not yet.

“I think… you need something to do.” He said one day, looking thoughtful as he ground down some pungent smelling herbs in his mortar, glancing to Arthur who sat boredly at the other end with a cutting board in front of him full of haphazardly chopped up roots that Merlin had given him not ten minutes before. “One that will wear you out better. Potion preparations really doesn’t seem to tickle your fancy…also you’re pretty rubbish at it.” The comment only earned him a glare which in turn earned a series of chuckles.

Arthur could not have been more annoyed.

“You’re like a petulant child making faces like that.” Merlin laughed good naturedly, shaking his head as he got up and gathered up the board from the older man, dumping what was on it into the mortar with a light, cheerful hum. The combination of observation and insult made his face color, the exiled prince just glaring at the back of Merlin’s head as he moved around. Eventually his curiosity got the better of him and he carefully mouthed what he was wondering at the man accompanied by some back up hand movements.

“… what? Oh! You’re asking what I had in mind?” Finally he was starting to catch on better. He’d hoped it wouldn’t be another thirty minute bit of charades. Watching the physician carefully arrange himself back on the other end of the table the man put his focus back on the mortar instead of directly addressing Arthur, his gaze sticking there for now. “I thought that I might take you to the nearby village and see if anyone had need of an extra pair of hands. My mother lives there, if nothing else you could help her with her work…though it would be about the same as what you’re doing here.” He glanced up just as he pulled a face, the pale man laughing loudly at him. “Prat. Don’t be so ungrateful. I could just send you off to Morgana and she’d have you doing who knows what.”

Arthur barely steeled himself against the flinch that cropped up at the mention of the dark haired Druid, the thought of being close to someone with magic more than repulsive in this state. His stomach twisted into knots and he felt like he was going to be ill… Getting up quickly he went and fetched himself a cup of water, gulping it down. “Sorry… I shouldn’t have.”

It was so embarrassing and frustrating. He shouldn’t be frightened. He shouldn’t, but he was. So frightened sometimes that he curled in on himself and gripped at his throat like that first time, breathing stuttered and heavy, like he’d run miles and miles. He wasn’t a child. It shouldn’t be like this. It wasn’t the first time Arthur had faced the prospect of death so why was this so…

The blonde nearly jumped out of his skin as arms wrapped around him, pulling him tightly back against the lanky man’s chest, the action making him freeze completely. He was at a loss for what to do. This… this wasn’t something men did. Men didn’t indulge in… in hugging other men. Even… even his father hadn’t really…

His mind was wiped completely blank when Merlin shushed him softly, giving him a small additional squeeze in the embrace, the physician whispering for him to “breathe slowly”. He hadn’t noticed that he was getting to that panicked point. It was humiliating…

“It’s all right, Arthur…it’s all right. We’ll work you through this somehow.”

Arthur couldn’t deny that his eyes felt at least a little wet in the aftermath.

***

Luckily Arthur was not dropped into the hands of Merlin’s mother…well not officially. She was the one who ended up finding work for the blonde man by the end of the day, the woman remembering that her farmer friend not far away had needed an extra hand to bring in the wheat harvest that year.

Threshing was hard but good work, and it got him out of Merlin’s hair for the better part of the day, the man coming back to the physician’s home at sundown and nearly passing out immediately upon arriving. That always earned an odd, hearty laugh from the physician that made Arthur’s heart skip a beat for absolutely no reason at all.

The way things had developed in this new, strange existence of living in obscurity were sort of…nice, all things considered. It wasn’t the most miserable thing that could’ve happened to him, and he was thankful for that.

If only he didn’t have to stay with a great big idiot that made his heart flip-flop pathetically.


	5. The Mite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to note this story is completely un-beta'd. Also this is the first chapter that features something recently written, the first scene was written 3 years ago when I started this fic on tumblr. Glad I managed to get back to writing for it.

The cold had finally come and Arthur did not appreciate it in the slightest. Merlin seemed eternally amused when it came to anything that got on his nerves and was as annoyingly unsympathetic as usual to his average, everyday sort of complaints. (If one could call glaring at the chuckling man in the early morning and tossing him a rude gesture a complaint.)

After word of mouth had taken hold Arthur had found himself helping out a few more members of the community other than the farmer he'd taken up threshing for, assisting one week in repairs around the town Hunith resided in. With how relaxed and seemingly docile the little village was Arthur never really considered that anyone who lived there could be any sort of hostile... But one cold morning on his way in he crossed paths with a boy running full tilt away from a shovel wielding farmer (one of Hunith's close neighbors he realized belatedly), the man fully ready to beat the child round the head with the heavy thing. Arthur wasn't really sure what possessed him to do it, by all accounts it was likely that the boy deserved what he had coming to him...

But really, a shovel?

Catching the boy before he could get by completely he jerked him around and carefully put himself between the two, brows raised in a silent question to the older man as he held the struggling child in place. "Oi! Give tha' boy ta me, he's goin' to pay for lighting my cart on fire!"

Arthur made no move to do any such thing, though the boy surprisingly pushed himself tighter against the back of Arthur's leg, his hands curled around the hem of his tunic.

"I said give 'im here!" Apparently the farmer, friend to Hunith or not, had no qualms about charging forth with the shovel, apparently prepared to beat his uncooperative head in. It must've slipped his notice that Arthur's physique really wasn't one that matched a mere farmer's lifestyle.

Shoving the boy to the side he met the idiot by first getting a hold on the shovel, his hands gripping tight at it before forcing things upward, knocking the man's chin hard with the wood of it before yanking it completely from his stunned, lax grip.

Stepping back and pointing it in a rather lazy looking threat of his own he raised one eyebrow and narrowed his eyes, challenging any further incursions of violence. The man rubbed at his chin, spat at him, and then hissed some obscenities before stumbling away back in the direction of his (apparently) smouldering cart.

Looking back he found the boy still standing unsurely off to the side, looking at him with wide eyes like he might suddenly change his mind about the whole thing. Resting the shovel against his shoulder Arthur scowled, holding out his hand to the boy reluctantly. Maybe Hunith could fathom out what to do with him.

***

Honestly Arthur was a bit surprised that the boy had consented to coming with him at all... But with the way things appeared he figured that the child was just as lost as he had been weeks before. Leading the boy by the hand he headed up to Hunith's door and knocked, the rickety wood jiggling beneath his strikes as he noticed out of the corner of his eye the child looking around warily.

"Good morning, Arthur, I've got the-" Upon opening the door Hunith beamed at him, her smile faltering a little as she noticed the addition on her doorstep, brow furrowing as she brought her gaze back to the blonde. "Who's this? One of Merlin's druid friends?"

He shrugged, offering her an awkward smile as she stepped aside and allowed them both by, the auburn haired woman closing the door behind them as Arthur ushered the child farther inside, eventually hooking his hands under the boy's armpits and pointedly sitting him down at Hunith's table. Oddly the boy didn't seem to particularly mind the manhandling, just giving Arthur a cursory once over as the blonde faced Merlin's mother again, taking her proffered cloth of greenery and tucking it into the sachet that hung on his belt.

Letting out a little sigh Arthur tried to both mouth and mime his question to her, Hunith expression making him want to press his hands over his eyes so he wouldn't see the pity that flit through it every now and again as he motioned to her.

"He wants to know if you'll watch me while he works the field."

Both his and Hunith's heads snapped to look at the dark haired little boy, his expression somehow seeming guilty despite the helpful abridging of Arthur's question. Looking between them in an odd fashion Hunith smiled again, idly smoothing her skirts as she settled on Arthur again.

"Why of course I can... I could use a bit of help today with what I've got to do anyway..." She looked to the little boy again, her head tilting a tiny bit in a way that shocked Arthur to note was very much like how Merlin would. "What's your name, boy?"

To Arthur's unending dismay they were suddenly met with stalwart silence, the tiny thing fidgeting with the hem of his tunic.

Letting out an exasperated sigh he curled his hands over his hips, narrowly resisting the urge to shout, his throat tingling ominously at the mere thought of making noise. Of course he'd take along a child who was going to be difficult! Arthur's line of thought steadily became more irritated as he stared down the fidgety mite.

"It's all right, no one's going-"

"M'Mordred, not a mite!"

It left both Hunith and Arthur effectively speechless again, the two sharing a look as Arthur's stomach pitched a bit, his eyes opened wide as he looked at this tiny, underfed boy...

Who had just heard his thoughts.

He felt nauseous, perfectly fit to be sick right out Hunith's back window. Magic. More magic. He'd thought the boy had just been mischievous, lighting the cart on fire with some nicked flint. But it was magic.

Hunith was gripping his arm hard and his attention snapped back to his surroundings, suddenly very aware of how he was breathing like he'd just run a furlong without stopping. Pressing a hand to his chest he took several deep, long breaths, shutting his eyes against the tightness that had manifested there.

Everything was fine. Fine. FINE.

"...I didn't mean it... I just wanted to go away. He got mad and hurt my arm..."

"Who did?" The auburn haired woman gasped, her hand coming off Arthur's bicep as she took a step forward. Even motherless as he was he could tell where her reaction pulled from.

Mordred just sniffled loudly and said nothing, his hands now fisted in his tunic hem. A moment later his stomach grumbled loudly.

Sucking in a sharp, loud breath Arthur knew deep down in his bones that he was going to regret this. Everything absolutely about this he was going to regret. Entirely.

Reaching behind he unlaced the larger satchel from his belt, opening it as he moved forward. From it he produced half of his intended lunch, a rather large apple he'd brought down from one of the trees not far from Ealdor.

It wouldn't do to have the boy taking from Hunith's stores.

When he held it out Mordred lifted his head, lip wobbling ominously as he looked at Arthur with equally ominous dewy eyes.

Arthur huffed out a breath, trying not to flee at the notion of a child crying. A sigh of relief followed when Mordred carefully took it from his palm, the blonde man raising the hand to muss the child's hair, turning to Hunith to offer her a small smile and a wave before absolutely not bolting for the door and consequently the field he was charged with threshing that day.


	6. The Voice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some POV switch in the chapter, but it's delineated by asterisks. I thought I'd give a heads up.

It wasn't till mid-afternoon that Arthur allowed himself to think of what had happened that morning (and by that, of course, meant he had dwelt upon it in the hours since, but only now found reason to personally acknowledge the thoughts), the blonde sitting down at the edge of the field and heaving a sigh, raising a hand and running it through his hair just as someone called his name.

Looking around he found Merlin striding out of the treeline toward him, the prince blinking owlishly at him as though his presence would ebb out of existence if he caught the light just right. The man was supposed to be off nursing some daft druids the entire day, not loping across the grass at him like some ruddy deer. Raising an eyebrow at his appearance he gave a little wave, looking away after a moment to palm his sachet, fiddling with it till it opened so he could pull the herb packet Hunith had provided earlier in the day. Surely that was what Merlin would be after.

Offering it up just as the lanky man slowed to a stop beside him he found the look of puzzlement on Merlin's face not the least bit encouraging. He pressed the pack further under his nose, wondering if the physician had gotten slower in his short absence.

Grabbing the cloth packet out of Arthur's hand with an air of irritation he finally spoke, whatever breath he'd been trying to catch given up on now. "There's a boy missing, a druid, have you seen him?"

So Mordred was of their ilk. It made perfect sense.

Pushing up onto his feet he just grabbed the physician by the wrist, leaving his actions as the answer as he practically drug the man through the fields to his mother's home while the tall man made pissy, cat-like sounds at him for being taken along so bodily.

"You could've just said yes!" He complained uselessly, looking around them not unlike how Mordred had that morning, giving Arthur a weird twinge in his chest at the brief overlap. Frowning deeply he just pushed Hunith's door open without further hesitation, shoving Merlin through the door by his shoulders.

Inside Hunith had apparently put Mordred to work with the mortar and pestle, the boy grinding down whatever she'd given him with an intense focus, it surprisingly unbroken by the intrusion. Hunith, however, had noticed, the woman in question letting out a delighted sound at the appearance of her son.

"Merlin! And here I thought you were just going to continue to use Arthur as your go between." She commented as she got up, going to him and immediately folding him into a hug as the dark haired man made useless noises of protest, Arthur rolling his eyes at the behavior before skirting around the two to go sit down beside Mordred at the table.

"I would've been by in a few days, honestly, but Iseldir has sick that needed special attention!" His cheeks were pink, Arthur noted, the older man smirking as he watched the embrace dissolve, Hunith patting his cheek.

"Oh of course, Merlin." She replied, completely indulgent.

"I would have!" Merlin said again, still useless in the wake of the shame that showed on his face. "I came to get Mordred, Morgana came to my cottage for help finding him. She said he might've ended up around here..."

"I'm surprised her sight didn't tell her so." The auburn haired woman commented, Arthur's eyebrows raising at her nonchalance. Sight? Surely not...

"Her parents have been giving her drafts to suppress it... She's not been sleeping well with it." Merlin almost sounded guilty, the blonde suddenly coming under scrutiny from the physician as he continued. "Did Arthur bring him to you?"

'That's a stupid question.' Arthur thought wryly, having hoped Merlin would've gotten that by his behavior from before.

"That's a stupid question." Mordred echoed, earning a look of alarm from the owner of the mind he thieved from.

Merlin's eyes had bugged out a bit at that comment, his brows suddenly turning down along with his mouth. "Mordred! Don't be rude!"

"Arthur said it."

Arthur was helpless but to give the boy another alarmed and frankly angry look. Hunith only laughed softly from where she sat, working her knife through a bunch of rosemary.

"Arthur!" Apparently Merlin was perfectly happy to go along with the mind thievery, the blonde man holding up his hands in placation to the sudden angry outburst.

'Blasted boy! Of course he's talkative now!'

Arthur only realized his mistake as he heard the high pitched voice echo his thoughts again, the blonde just slapping his hands over his face in despair. The gods had to be playing a cruel joke on him to curse him with such things.

***

Merlin was beside himself with this turn of events, nearly dumbfounded by the implications about Mordred let alone Arthur himself (he'd known Arthur was a prat, so the dialogue wasn't the actual surprise).

"Mordred... You can hear him like you do with the others?" The 'with me' went unsaid, Merlin hoping the boy got the subtext of it.

After a moment or two of grinding the pestle into the bowl the boy bobbed his head, Arthur looking between them with an increasingly panicked expression in his eyes. "Arthur doesn't have magic, Mordred... Are you doing something special to hear him?"

Instantly the boy's head shook, what seemed like pride puffing him up a bit. "I can hear him clear as Morgana... Maybe even better!"

Merlin tried to not consider the implications that went with that. Somehow he felt like he should be sitting down to work through the sheer awe he was feeling in the wake of the druid boy that sat so nonchalantly beside his patient, as though this was all perfectly normal.

"You look like a startled stoat." Mordred chirped, Arthur raising his hand like he was about to smack the boy. Of course that had come from Arthur, the clotpole.

Narrowing his eyes a bit he forced a smile that even he could tell was watery. "It's a lot to take in, Wart. You're not the only one amazed here."

"Don't get in the habit of calling me that, _Mer_ lin."

The drawl to it was a surprise, Merlin's eyebrows shooting up just as Arthur's did. Apparently Mordred was being quite accurate.

"Would you prefer I call you a bone idle toad?" He quipped, his mother making something that sounded like a disapproving noise mixed with an amused snort from her place at the table.

"If my mind thief weren't the innocent kind I'd call you far worse."

"Whatever you say, prat."


	7. Ripples

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mainly Merlin PoV, but there's a shift to Arthur near the end. Just another heads up.

The walk back the way he'd come was less rushed but no less tense, the revelation that Mordred's abilities were strong enough to slip through the spell that held Arthur's communicative abilities captive in order to touch his patient's mind was staggering. Merlin couldn't quite fathom having such power at his disposal.  
  
"It's not hard." Mordred stated, tone strangely brittle despite how quiet he was being. "I don't know why you can't do it, but it's not hard."  
  
That failed to make him feel better. "I've told you not to do that."  
  
"You're easy to hear." The boy supplied, his voice taking on a more comfortable quality. "Morgana, too."  
  
"As she should be, she's your sister." Merlin replied, mind not quite focused on the response, his arm hair quite suddenly standing on end as a spike of magic came off the druid boy.  
  
"She's NOT my sister."  
  
Before he could argue the woman herself finally appeared, seizing Mordred by the shoulders as soon as she was close. "Oh thank goodness! Where did you run off to!?"  
  
The question hung and hung and hung in the air between the three, the pale boy staring at her stonily, not saying a word or making any indication he meant to answer her.  
  
"...he was with my mother. Arthur found him. He'd lit her neighbor's cart on fire." Merlin finally explained softly, giving the child a sympathetic look as fury lit on Morgana's face.  
  
"My lessons are too boring that you had to go off and 'practice' on your own? Or did you just wish to cause mischief?!" She demanded, Mordred flinching as he dropped his head forward and looked at the ground between them.  
  
The action seemed to make the sorceress deflate somewhat, the long breath out through her nose adding to the effect. "...oh Mordred, don't you see how worried I was?"  
  
"...I hate it here."

It was so quiet Merlin barely heard it, Morgana's expression twisting further into something sad as she drew the boy forward into a hug. "...I know. I know."  
  
Chewing his bottom lip the physician looked at the two for a moment or two more before touching the druid woman's arm, giving her a small smile. "I've got to get back home, I've got to start on a new medicine before the day is through... I'll see you tomorrow."  
  
Nodding some to that she nodded and murmured her thanks, the dark haired man leaving the two where they stood, hoping beyond hope that the boy wouldn't cause any more trouble. Gods only knew how little they needed it.  
  
***  
  
When Arthur arrived home Merlin had moved on from medicine making to dinner making, which thankfully involved much less magical assistance than the other. The stew essentially made itself, anyway, the sorcerer only having to throw everything into the pot and leave it over the fire.  
  
"How was the last of your work?" He asked, turning as the blonde man closed the cottage's door behind him, his patient shrugging as he unlaced the emptied pouches he'd carried with him that day, surprisingly kicking his boots off as well by the door and making Merlin hold his nose only on principle. Arthur made a rude gesture at him for that.  
  
"No need to be so testy, was only a question." He chirped cheekily, the broader man giving him a glare for his trouble before he opened the door again, heading out of it and slamming it shut behind him, Merlin belatedly noticing he'd been clutching something in his other hand.  
  
"Well fine, if you're going to be that way." Merlin muttered to himself, ignoring his curiosity completely in favor of being irritated. With or without words Arthur easily came off as the poor tempered arsehole he really was.  
  
Sympathy for his situation or no he was not going to let this pass by. He was going to give Arthur a piece of his mind!  
  
Marching to the door the dark haired warlock threw it open, marching outside and looking around for the shorter man, brows drawn together as he scanned the area. Strangely there was no sign of him... Save for his tunic... And his breeches?  
  
Quite suddenly the calmness of the water broke in the pond beside the bank, the blonde man surfacing and bringing his hands up to push his soaked hair out of his eyes, apparently catching sight of Merlin in his periphery as it took no time at all for him to look the physician's way.  
  
At that point Merlin felt himself gaping. He knew he'd opened his mouth originally to say something, to start in on the tongue lashing he'd intended to give his patient... And yet...  
  
Arthur looked still flushed from his day's work, the water from his hair trickling down his neck and over his chest, creating a picture that Merlin knew he could not possibly dwell upon and come out all right. At his silence Arthur's eyebrow raised, the man slowly plucking the soap (so that was what he'd taken, Merlin realized) from the bank and lowering it to the water, beginning to work it between his hands.  
  
"...nevermind." He finally pushed out dumbly, feeling as though his ears were aflame. "I was going to-... Nevermind." With that he spun on heel and beat a fast retreat back to the cottage, thinking aggravatingly that Arthur surely must be laughing at him after all that.  
  
Stupid prat.

***

Laughter hadn't exactly been Arthur's reaction, but instead he ducked his head and quickly washed up, grinning to himself over the physician's reaction despite not knowing why it pleased him so.  
  
Climbing from the pond he shook off as much water as he could before sitting down beside his discarded clothes, wondering vaguely if he should drip dry or simply go bother Merlin for clean rag to wipe the rest off. That seemed to be the better of the two ideas...  
  
Save for the fact that when he palmed his tunic and looked back toward the cottage he found a woman standing there. Small, pale, and raven haired... And very much not Morgana.  
  
Feeling punishing heat suddenly consume his face Arthur grabbed up his tunic to cover himself, looking at her wide eyed just as the cottage door was thrown open again. "Arthur you-"  
  
There was an uncomfortably lengthy silence after that start.  
  
"...hello, Merlin." The woman finally said, turning to look at the man in question that stood yet again gaping beside his home.  
  
"F-Freya?"


	8. Grief

As it turned out the woman, Freya, wasn't put off by happening upon a nude man in the slightest, Arthur's face burning long after he'd gotten dressed despite her casual handling of things.

Her personality turned out to be as sweet as her face, surprisingly accommodating of his predicament with little questioning, just going along with parsing his gestures and mouth movements, Merlin bridging some of the gaps.

What bothered him was how Merlin behaved.

Of course he was sweet to her, Arthur doubted anyone could be rude to a woman with a temperament like her's... But in each action there was more than just friendly affection. He was almost certain it was some kind of puppy-love.

"Have you heard the news from Camelot?" Freya asked, voice soft and sweet, completely contrasting the sudden dread that gripped at his gut. "The Pendragons have been deposed." Well that was putting it nicely.

Merlin's brow furrowed at that, his eyes narrowing in disbelief. "By who?"

"Rheged's spares, evidently." She replied, picking up her cup and taking a sip of her tea, Arthur's discomfort growing by the second. 

"They've restored magic to the kingdom in one fell swoop, they even sent messengers to the Isle of the Blessed in an attempt to treat with Nimueh."

Merlin made a scoffing sound. "If the rumors of Nimueh are true I doubt anyone could get her to return to Camelot."

Arthur was suddenly feeling short of breath. Oh gods, not this. He couldn't make a scene over this.

"I doubt she'd very much like to take up with another vicious set of royalty." Freya commented mildly, as if talking about the weather.

He could see blood on the floor, thick and puddled around a body covered in chainmail.

"Arthur!"

Fuck he hadn't realized he was already in the middle of making a scene till Merlin's voice made him jerk, the prince turning away in shame as long fingered hands curled over his shoulders. "Arthur slow yourself..." One hand slid down and grabbed hold of his wrist, the physician forcing him to press it to his chest. "Just follow me."

After a few agonizing minutes Arthur wanted nothing better than to run from the cottage, utterly humiliated (and twice over no less). Freya must think him touched.

"...I'm sorry, I should've realized with your condition that you might..." Gods why did she have to be so kind?

Pressing a hand over his face Arthur didn't dare looking up as he heard the woman get to her feet. "I'll come back another day, Merlin. You and Arthur should go to bed, it's gotten late."

"Ah...yes, I'll just walk you out, then..." Merlin murmured, finally taking his hands from Arthur completely and going out the door with her.

He felt like throwing a fit, his throat constricting at the thought of being able to scream and shout his upset like a proper human being. This was a strange sort of agony being without a voice... He rubbed his neck, frowning deeply at the thoughts that filtered in thereafter.

Caught up in that thought Arthur had little time to react to the sudden embrace he was pulled into, his face suddenly buried against a familiar red tunic.

"I'm sorry for that, I didn't think it might set you off... I didn't mean to embarrass you."

Arthur clenched his jaw, grabbing the man's sides as though to throw him off but faltering, his eyes stinging minutely.

He was just tired.

Freya was right, he could use some sleep.


	9. Old Eyes

It was a few days before Arthur could properly look Merlin in the eye again, the incident with Freya hurting his pride deeply and making him begin to dwell on his situation more than he had since first being taken in by the physician.

A few days of avoided eye contact and general tip-toeing around apparently didn't deter Merlin from doing his usual annoying things. Being oblivious, invading Arthur's space, and generally bothering him till he wanted to cuff him upside the head somehow fitting into the gaps of the exiled prince's attempt to keep away from him.

Then, just when Arthur finally was able to feel some semblance of normal resume Merlin had to go and ruin it, striding across the fields to bother him in the middle of his meal again.

Surprisingly he was initially silent, slowly kneeling down then sitting properly beside the blonde, Arthur chancing a look at him purely out of curiosity. He looked strangely serious.

"I wanted to... Well I'd been meaning to involve him anyway but... well... After the other day..." Merlin rambled, finally looking Arthur in the face. "After the other day I finally can concede that you're in need of someone with more experience."

Raising an eyebrow at that he wondered why that had made Merlin so worried looking.

"The man I apprenticed to, I think he could help you..." Rubbing the back of his neck he grimaced. "He's Morgana's grandfather..."

Oh. So that was it. Arthur immediately shook his head. There was no way he wanted more sorcerers involved.

"No, no, Arthur wait, just... Just listen." The physician pushed, his brow furrowing further. "It's not like that. He doesn't practice magic, it's all based in the sciences, like the things I've been trying to use on you..."

The shorter man's shoulders relaxed by a measure, though his nose wrinkled and he made a face briefly at the memory of the tinctures and heavy herbal remedies that Merlin had him swallow or had rubbed into the deep bruising on his neck.

Merlin snorted, shaking his head before continuing. "He knows more of how to combat magic with that sort of thing... He's...traveled."

Arthur had a weird twinge of hope crop up from the notion of someone older who may have seen something similar. Perhaps he even knew how to cure it outright.

He didn't notice he was grinning till he heard Merlin's comment: "So you like that idea, hm?"

With as much dignity as possible he nodded rapidly, tossing away his apple core before getting to his feet, looking expectantly at the other man with his hand held out.

"...oh. Oh! You want to go now?" Despite the question Merlin grasped his hand, allowing Arthur to pull him to his feet. In answer he just gave the taller man a roll of his eyes, nudging him forward.

"All right, all right! You don't have to push!"

***

What Merlin had failed to mention was that Morgana's grandfather lived in the woods with the Druids.

He supposed he should have figured, and that it was a failing of his own to not have foreseen this detail, but Arthur found himself practically glued at the hip with the other man, the unfamiliar and frankly intimidating notion that he was amongst a group of magic users making his hair stand on end.

"Arthur you're going to trip me if you keep that up." Merlin warned quietly, making no move to put space between them despite his statement. The blonde ignored him, focusing on fighting the urge to knot his fingers into the back of Merlin's jacket like a simpleton.

Stepping up finally to the door of one of the small dwellings (Arthur couldn't place if he knew a name for them, their structures seemingly a kind of tent but more permanent looking), Merlin called out before just rudely poking his head inside. "Gaius? Gaius I've brought that man to meet you."

"Just come in, you're practically already through the door as it is." A creaky baritone called out in return, Merlin pulling back and flashing a grin at Arthur before practically dragging him inside.

The scent of herbs mingled with smoke burned Arthur's nose and he squinted because of it's potency, the dark haired man heading inside as though this tent thing was his own cottage, unceremoniously plopping down beside the white haired elder that sat beside the fire stirring something in a small pot that hung above it.

When the man raised his gaze from his work to look at Arthur a strange expression washed over his face immediately, making the unease Arthur had felt passing through the village resurge.

The elderly man's eyes looked wet... and his face had gotten somewhat paler from just looking at him.

Then he laughed. "Oh Merlin... _This_ is who you took in?"

Merlin looked as confused as Arthur felt.

"Come sit here, Arthur. Let's have a look at what they've done to you." Gaius stood, gesturing for the blonde to take his seat and then repeating it when Arthur hesitated. "Sit. I don't want to have to lean to look at your neck."

Finally moving across the room to sit beside Merlin the two young men shared a baffled look, both following Gaius' movements as he puttered about around them, the white haired man pushing the array of tools he'd procured into Merlin's arms before gently directing Arthur to tilt his head to the side, his thumbs brushing over his neck gingerly.

"...I see. They created a strong hex to bind you... There should be rules to it, or at least nebulous wants that were imbued into the spell when it was cast." Gaius' words were only reiterations of what Arthur already knew, his frustration spiking suddenly despite the feeling of shame that followed the reaction. It was good that Gaius could recognize this at all.

"Merlin has told me you've also experienced panicking in response to several things." He seemed to be kindly avoiding the name of it's source. "That is not something I can readily fix... But perhaps there is something to be done about here." He gently tapped Arthur's Adam's Apple before withdrawing, taking one of the tools he'd foisted upon Merlin to address whatever the contents of the pot was.

"Ah... That's what this needs..." Gaius suddenly looked at Merlin, the dark haired man straightening up at the attention. "Go fetch some fresh feverfew," Merlin looked as though he was about to object, Gaius cutting him off immediately, "My joints aren't serving me well today so I haven't been out to do it myself."

Looking terribly put out Merlin set the tools down on the bench, heading for the flap. "You've got apprentices to send and yet you always wait for me to come around." He griped, leaving with one last look at Arthur.

To say Arthur was uncomfortable immediately would be pointless. He'd already been uncomfortable just coming there. Being alone with Gaius now just made him want to bolt, even more so when he opened his mouth.

"I know you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm honestly surprised I've gotten this far. I guess it helps to have some semblance of a plan.


	10. Water and Fire

The urge to grab for any blunt instrument was intense, Arthur's fingers twitching as he forced himself to remain still in the face of this sudden revelation. How could that be possible? It was simply absurd.

The set of Gaius' mouth volleyed between a smile and a grimace for a few moments, clearly picking up on his unease at this declaration. "I'm not surprised you don't recall, you were but a small child... Perhaps four or five when I left Camelot..." The silver haired man shook his head a bit at the memory.

"I was the Court Physician then, I served your Father for years and I was who helped deliver you into this world..." Setting the pot and spoon aside he slowly sank down onto the bench beside Arthur, the blonde eyeing him as he searched his memory for a scrap of something, anything, that could be colluded with this man.

"I'm sorry for your loss. I'm sorry you've suffered, my boy." Gaius murmured, patting his shoulder gently. Something about the tone he used made Arthur nostalgic, but he hardly had a clue what for. He could only nod, a numb sensation slowly creeping over his insides.

"You look so much like your mother..." The wistful tone somehow made Arthur feel even worse, the physician's reaction to his own voice suggesting that what had left his lips had not been meant for anyone's ears. His eyes stung and he wanted very much to leave.

The flap to the physician's home was pushed open again, Merlin striding in with an armful of plants Arthur didn't care to pay attention to, quickly casting his gaze downward as the elderly man stood and met his former apprentice, thanking him for the help before going to arrange a place for the supplies.

"Did something happen?" Merlin asked, though by his tone it nearly sounded like he were addressing Arthur and not Gaius.

"Just did some further examination. The hex will be tough to counter or break... Perhaps seeking help from the ladies of the isle would be best... I fear it would take years of tinkering for me to get the results they'd get in weeks."

Arthur felt hollowed out. Empty of all feeling and function. Getting to his feet he skirted the fire and pushed out of the hut, trudging away. The bustle of the camp seemed strangely distant as he hurried away from the area, whether anyone had called out to him or taken notice of his leaving he couldn't say. He only found when he was outside the camp that he could focus again.

"Did he help?" A small voice asked, Arthur instantly recognizing it's tenor and grimacing at the thought of who it heralded.

'No. Not really.'

"...too bad. But it's hate magic so I guess it makes sense. Hate magic's worse."

'Great.' Arthur's grimace deepened as Mordred fell into step with him. He was fairly certain this was the way back.

"Stuff like that can only be broken by it's opposite. Y'know, like water n'fire?" The boy for whatever reason took him by the hand, his small fingers curling around three of Arthur's, his thoughts briefly turning to how strange it was that a tiny thing like Mordred had power. It probably ran in the family or something absurd.

"They're not my family." He suddenly cut in, tone matter of fact. Arthur raised a brow, looking down at him curiously. He'd almost forgotten they were having a conversation purely because Mordred could read his thoughts.

"Well they're not... My papa died on the road. Morgana and her parents decided to keep me since they had more to spare than the rest, bein' the leaders and all of the Druid camp here..." Mordred shrugged some as a wave of pity washed through Arthur. "I don't mind them... But I'd rather leave than stay." His tone got quieter as he finished. "I don't belong."

'I can relate.' Arthur replied, the two of them closing in on Merlin's cottage in a strangely serene sort of mood. 'But of course you'd know that.'

"...I don't mean to look. But I just can." Mordred replied, for the first time actually sounding sorry. "...if you keep an open mind... someday maybe Merlin will be able to help you."

It was a strange thing to say, things considered, and all it made Arthur think of was the conversation that Gaius and Merlin had been in the midst of when he left. Weeks... years... It was more likely an eternity than a decade at this point. He began to wonder if it would just be simpler to accept it and move on.

"You know... You have bigger problems than just your voice." Mordred pointed out, the two of them standing near the door, both stuck undecided on whether to enter or leave.

Had he overstayed? He'd reasoned it as healing... But perhaps he was just coddling himself with that, allowing Merlin to work at him till it was past hope.

And what of his future? Was he lost for good? Should his exile stand?

How could he even think to take back his home when such odds were stacked?

Arthur was pulled from his thoughts as Mordred finally released his hand, the boy pushing the door open and heading inside. "If you're going to do that much thinking I'm going to make tea. You're giving me a headache."

What a terror this boy was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boy this story certainly just wanders on it's own. I had plans and all of them have gone crossways!! Mordred and Arthur like to do their own thing.


	11. Spoons

'Exactly how detailed do your peeks into my mind get?' Arthur asked after a while of meandering, polite conversation between he and Mordred, the boy having muddled through making tea with what Merlin had at the cottage in remarkable time, giving the exiled prince the impression he had pulled the information of where everything was right out of his head.

"...uhm... Detailed??" Mordred echoed, blowing on his second cup with an oddly deep look of concentration.

'Do you see everything... Hear everything?' He leaned forward, his forearms against the table as he studied the lad closely.

The Druid boy frowned some before taking a sip, narrowing his eyes as he looked at Arthur over the rim of it. For whatever reason the feeling of unease he'd had around this child was beginning to wane.

"Mm... No, not exactly... And not... It's not like I can go through your mind like a cupboard. M'not picking things out, _you_ are." Mordred scooped up the spoon he'd used on his tea earlier, holding it out to Arthur and dropping it into his palm when he accepted it.

"S'like that... But less intentional."

Arthur looked down at the spoon, suddenly having the fleeting thought that he was grateful Mordred hadn't been ever kicking around the place in the late evening when it had just been he and Merlin the entire day.

"...if it's private you shouldn't be thinkin' about it." The boy groused, eyeballing him like a bad tempered cat.

'Oh hush. I'm still getting used to the concept of being a cupboard.' He sighed out loud with the retort, finally tossing the spoon aside. Arthur stared down into his cup, frowning as he turned the idea of being completely honest over. He'd yet to tell Merlin, and he was the man who had saved Arthur's life...

"Whatever it is I could _help_ tell him." Mordred offered, sounding just a tiny bit wise with that. Looking up at him he gave the boy a wan smile.

'Very true... You're practically already my second mouth.'

Mordred made a face at the notion but said nothing, just drinking more of his tea as Arthur mulled things over, gazing into his cup as though it had all the answers.

'I suppose Merlin had already mentioned I'm a knight?'

Mordred perked up at that, looking at him with interest. "No, he mostly keeps you to himself outside Morgana... She needles it out of him cause she's nosy."

Arthur grinned broadly at that, shaking his head in amusement over the response. 'Well I was... Am. I am a knight.'

"Do you have a master?" The dark haired boy asked, getting up onto his knees on the bench so he could lean his upper half on the table, acting for all to see like this was a confidential _audible_ conversation and not for all appearances a one sided one.

'I did... Before I was hexed.' It was hard to not focus on who he was referring to or the incident involved, a cold sensation creeping in as he watched Mordred. 'I'm not sure I'll seek out another.'

The boy hummed over that, looking at Arthur curiously. He wondered if he'd somehow picked up on the care he was investing in keeping things neutral. If he had he made no mention. "Was he good?"

'...in a way.' Looking a child of magic in the face and thinking of his King made it difficult to resist the thought of fire. 'What darkness he had wrought ended things and lead me here.'

"...sounds like a fairytale." The boy murmured, cocking his head as Arthur just gave him another, watery smile. It sounded in the least like a cautionary tale.

'Are you good at keeping secrets, Mordred?'

After a moment's hesitation and a quick study of the table top the Druid boy looked up at him with earnest determination plainly painted across his face. "I will be."

Oh how he wished he could laugh, but for that he just let himself smile more genuinely. 'This secret is what I would someday like to tell Merlin, so you mustn't tell anyone till that time comes, all right?'

"All right." Mordred echoed, nodding his head.

Taking a deep breath in and then sighing it out he sat back, hands splayed on either side of him on the bench. 'I was a Prince, too. The Prince of Camelot.'

The boy went pale, sliding back off the table to thump back into sitting on the bench, brow furrowed as he gazed at Arthur with a searching look that unnerved him deeply. 'Mordred?'

"...you- you _hate_ sorcerers!" He exclaimed, tone sounding panicky. "Camelot's King killed so many sorcerers!" The atmosphere inside the cottage suddenly seemed thick and heavy, as though it were the Summer and a storm was poised to roll in.

Heart racing Arthur slowly held up his hands, palms open and facing the boy to show he meant no harm. 'I don't hate you, Mordred, and I promise I'd never hurt you.'

"But you're-"

'No. Listen... Just... Just look? Or feel? I don't want to hurt you. I don't want to hurt _anyone_ , least of all you...'

After a tense handful of minutes Arthur watched as the boy's shoulders slowly relaxed, Mordred tentatively curling his fingers over the edge of the tabletop in front of him and looking with intense shame down at his nails. "Arthur, I'm..."

'Don't be sorry... You weren't wrong about my father.' Pursing his lips he stood up, leaning over to pet a hand over the top of Mordred's head, trying to soothe him further. 'But he's gone now... And I'm not like him.'

This is truly what he'd been afraid of out of everything... How Merlin might look at him with fear or disgust for knowing who he really was. After the night Freya came to visit his fear had only grown, desperately not wanting the strange and fragile bond he had with the physician to disintegrate because of something he couldn't change.

"...you should tell him." Mordred murmured, Arthur only just noticing now that he had leaned his head into the petting he'd been unconsciously carrying on with. "Merlin is... kind. He will understand."

'Soon, perhaps, but...' He started, looking toward the hearth as he noticed the day's fatigue beginning to settle in.

'...not tonight.'


	12. Soft Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally realized that the way I imagine mute!Arthur being is kind of like how Bradley is in this Advent Calendar entry from s5: https://youtu.be/NJLP_O2jRzk

Arthur's flight from the Druid encampment was seemingly ignored for the few days afterward, Merlin returning to his cottage at dusk with a book and a list that he tucked away, shooing a huffing Mordred out the door before quietly going about making the evening meal.

Five days after, though, it seemed the physician couldn't resist any longer, grabbing Arthur by the arm just before he was about to leave for the fields. Winter's stinging cold was creeping in early and they needed to hurry to bring in the last of the harvest.

"Arthur... You know that I wouldn't..." He started, his brow furrowed as the shorter man watched him. "I would never purposefully put you in a position that would upset you. The other day-" Merlin was cut off prematurely, making an indignant sound as Arthur clamped his hand over his full lips. He grabbed at the other man's arm but stopped from pulling it away just yet, noticing the look on his face.

Arthur felt weirdly exasperated with him... yet fond nonetheless, his expression something just shy of a smile, the exiled prince just shaking his head at Merlin as he took his hand away. Strangely Merlin still held onto him as he spoke again.

"I'm serious... I would never hurt you, Arthur."

The blonde rolled his eyes, suddenly unable to look the dark haired mess of a man in the face after that sentiment. He just nodded, tapping Merlin's chest just over his heart before slipping out of his grip. The physician seemed to get the idea, huffing a small laugh. "You're such a prat."

The moment breaking with that Arthur just snorted, giving Merlin a catty smirk before shoving his shoulder and heading out the door, his heart doing something absurd as he meandered along toward Ealdor.

***

Winter came quickly, much the same as it had in the last few years, biting and obnoxiously windy, as though it wasn't enough to be buried in snow.

For the first time in a long while Arthur felt the strangeness renewed in his situation, his naming day coming and going with only him to acknowledge it. Being cooped up with Merlin did nothing for his mood and he did his best to not take his low mood out on the physician with minimal success, Arthur feeling like an absolute louse the rest of the day.

In a moment that he had to be bordering on mad he'd considered going to visit Gaius, the one person who might understand the significance. Thinking of it beyond the initial notion however made him cringe and feel ashamed, the memory of his hurried retreat from the elderly Druid's condolences making him feel almost sick.

No, better to pass this day in memoriam. It wasn't as if there was much of anything to celebrate anyway.

His miserable train of thought was destroyed sometime after dinner, Merlin trying to start a sentence that kept failing to create, driving Arthur's eyebrows higher and higher as he tried to parse what was making the other man so flustered.

"It'll only be getting colder here, Arthur... I don't know where you're from but ah... Well, I'm sure you've shared heat before, haven't you?" Merlin finally managed, voice almost squeaky with the effort of the question.

Arthur stared at him blankly for a moment or two, trying to parse exactly why a very foreign panic was threatening to latch onto him. As a prince he had had a bedwarmer twice, once when Camelot had a poor year of trade and another when they'd been on campaign. Surely sleeping with Merlin wouldn't be anything to fret over?

Finally he nodded slowly, though for whatever reason Merlin's nerves didn't seem to break at the answer. "I promise I don't kick in my sleep..."

The blonde man just stared at him a moment before rubbing a hand over his eyes, shaking his head at the absurd man across from him before sinking into his own thoughts again, though this time they weren't nearly so bleak but no less a problem.


	13. Bed of Disaster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally fulfilling that E rating...

This was a situation he'd not experienced. Though in his youth he'd experimented with other squires things had never gone farther than unskilled groping, and once being knighted he'd been too focused to think of doing anything aside from training till he dropped. His hand had sufficed.

In the haziness of the situation he was settled between a pair of legs, a cock digging into his back as he leaned against it's owner, his own throbbing in answering want against his belly. Looking down briefly he felt like he recognized the boots and breeches, the man apparently half dressed where Arthur was entirely nude. Something about that was more titillating than it should have been, but Arthur couldn't find mind enough to care.

All he wanted was some relief and as of that moment long fingers were only teasing their way over his shoulders, down the rise of his biceps, drawing idle patterns as they lingered. A sigh slipped out of him as he pressed back more firmly against the other man, the move earning a quiet gasp.

"Oh _Arthur_..."

Finally on the same page one hand palmed over his chest while the other went around his prick, it slowly stroking over his cock as he rutted into the small of Arthur's back. It was utter torture, the blonde man moaning out a near copy of the sentence before.

"Oh M-"

On second thought the bed-sharing was an utter disaster.

Waking hard, overheated, and mortified was not something Arthur wanted to make a habit of, the blonde taking deep, fortifying breaths in as he opened his eyes to the dim light left in the cabin. Merlin was stuck to his back tight, one arm thrown around his middle. He was trapped for the moment and it made his shame burn ever hotter.

Reaching up he rubbed the heels of his palms against his eyes, willing the lasting images to fade from his mind and his feelings to quiet down. He did not need to have such a crisis so early in the morning. Or ever.

Thankfully Merlin slumbered onward ever unawares, his snoring a comfort for once.

Grimacing Arthur pulled the other man's arms from around his middle, stumbling out of bed just as Merlin groped for him with a wince at the temperature change, his questing hands finding the blanket instead which he hauled up and over his head with a satisfied sigh.

It was colder than anticipated and Arthur hurried to restore the fire to it's former glory, fumbling around for the ingredients Merlin had shown him how to combine so he could start the morning meal cooking. He wondered idly if the Druids had things to trade with him, perhaps some furs at least that could ease the biting chill more so his generous host would no longer have to cling to him at night so indecently.

The remnants of that dream rose up again like the tide, flooding Arthur's senses with want that had his finally wilted prick twitching with renewed interest. This was an absolute curse... One almost as bad as the one on his throat. It was nonsensical this growing desire to be near the clumsy physician!

Not to mention he had the feeling that the affection he'd seen between Freya and the other man so often should be enough to dampen the flames. It was only a matter of time before something happened between the two of them. Arthur was never in the equation.

Shaking his head as he stirred things together and set the pot over the fire he looked back toward the lump on the low cot, pursing his lips as he resisted the urge to frown. Did he really want to stay and see that happen? Merlin and Freya... He wasn't sure he could stand it.

Sighing he went and sat at the table, leaning over with his head against his arms as he watched the flames lick the sides of the pot, the contents beginning to burble quietly.

Not long after Merlin woke with the smell of breakfast, the man keeping the blanket around his shoulders as he plopped down at the table, Arthur flicking his forehead as he went to ladle up some of the food for the taller man.

"Ow! Arthur no hitting this early!" He complained, huffing as the blonde set his food down before handing over Merlin's with a smirk. "You're a bully."

Arthur only shrugged at that, putting a spoonful of porridge in his mouth before looking up, eyeing the still sleep-laden motions of the idiot across from him. His hair was ruffled and one part looked almost like a cow had licked it. It made him grin.

"Oh shut up, I'm not awake enough for you to be making fun of me yet." Merlin muttered, wagging his spoon at him testily. "I'm surprised you're even up, you're the one who likes to sleep in so much."

Shrugging again the blonde just put another spoonful in his mouth, tapping the side of his bowl and tracing the grain of the table as he pointedly didn't look at the dark haired man, Merlin only grunting in annoyance once he noticed. "Gods above how is it you manage to be prat without saying a word I will never know!"

Arthur just grinned again, gesturing at Merlin in a way that just barely managed to say "it's all thanks to you".

"Oh shut up, Arthur!"


	14. The Blacksmith's Daughter

"Take me to see Guinevere." Arthur heard the voice of a small interloper declare as the door swung open, it ushering in a cold gust of wind with the miscreant that caused it. Looking curiously to Merlin he found the physician; who had since been grinding down some concoction both putrid looking but pleasantly fragrant, wrinkle his nose up and huff, turning his face toward Mordred.

"I've not got business with Guinevere today, get your sister to take you."

"They've had a tiff so she refuses to go!" Mordred grunted, clambering up onto the bench beside Merlin and glaring at him. "She said if I wanted to go it had to be _with you_ like I can't take care of myself or some such rubbish."

"You're still small and Winter is the worst time for predators." The physician sighed, rolling his eyes as though this conversation had happened many times before. Arthur got the feeling it really hadn't.

"Just cause _you_ got caught..."

" _Mordred_ I said _no_."

With a frustrated, sharp sound the boy practically flopped backward, sounding like he'd knocked the wind out of himself when he hit the dirt floor. Arthur bit back the laugh that wanted to come, calming the urge carefully before standing to peer over the table at the boy.

'Who's Guinevere?'

"The blacksmith's daughter." Mordred replied, earning a glance from Merlin toward the pair of them before he looked back down at his work, pausing only to roll his sleeves up and expose his finely muscled biceps. Arthur wasn't looking.

Mordred made a disgusted face at him, sitting up as he wrinkled his nose. "Arthur stop!"

'Shut UP! Stop looking!'

"You're the one being an open cupboard!! Stop handing me _things_!!"

"What in the world is going on with you two?" Merlin demanded finally, raising his gaze again as he frowned. Arthur swallowed hard and rubbed a hand over his face, wanting to die.

'Tell him it's nothing.'

"It's nothing, Merlin, Arthur's just handing me _spoons_." He huffed, the last word sounding mocking.

'If you SHUT UP I will take you to Guinevere.'

Mordred smiled widely at that, eyes glittering. "You will?"

"He'll what?" Merlin groaned, dropping the pestle into the mortar and only looking at Arthur this time. The blonde man felt his face get hot, only offering an innocent shrug in response. It wasn't like he could really say.

"He's going to take me to visit the fair lady like I want, no thanks to you, Merlin." Mordred replied gleefully, getting up and hurrying around to grab onto Arthur's arm and yank him out from behind the table and toward the door.

Merlin looked about to say something when Arthur just shrugged again and grabbed his cloak, giving him an awkward smile as he let Mordred continue to pull him.

"Don't worry, Merlin, we'll bring you back some bread! You don't have to be jealous!" The boy crowed, seeming overly pleased with himself when he heard Merlin squawk.

"Mordred!"

***

'Are bears and wolves truly that active here that there are problems?' Arthur asked as he pulled his cloak tighter around himself, following the boy through the snow at an easy pace.

"Huh? Not really, why'd you ask?"

'...well the whole predator thing seemed a pretty good indicator there's something prowling about?'

The boy huffed, pulling his hood back a little so he could look better at the tall blonde. "It's not animal predators, Arthur. It's _man_ predators. Slavers and the like."

Brows drawing together immediately he looked around, wishing he had a sword just for his own peace of mind. 'Is that common for these parts?'

"I dunno, I'm not actually from here, y'know... I've only been here a few Winters... But I've heard Morgana and Merlin mention a thing that happened to them a few times... Guinevere too. S'how they all met or something. I never really pay attention when they're talking about it, they never really say much anyway... Not even in their heads."

'...so no spoons for you to hold, then.' Arthur commented, clenching his jaw when his teeth threatened to chatter at the bite the wind had just taken out of him.

"It's not something they like to think about... Kinda like how you are, I think." Mordred murmured, Arthur almost not hearing him as the wind blew by again, this time bringing the scent of wood smoke to them. He hoped that meant they were close.

As it turned out they were, the lonely few buildings that were nestled in a clearing a welcome sight. Hurrying on ahead Mordred yelled out for the occupants, a dark skinned woman poking her head around the corner and smiling brightly, coming out and greeting the child before turning interested eyes on Arthur. "So you couldn't wrangle the other two into things, hm?"

"Merlin's a spoilsport." Mordred replied, noticeably not mentioning Morgana in his response then motioning to Arthur. "This is Arthur, he's been staying with him."

Waving awkwardly he put on as best a smile he could manage, coming up the final few feet and standing behind the boy. 'Tell her hello.'

"He says hello." Guinevere looked at him in a manner that suggested she was indulging him, the boy huffing before tapping his own temple. "I can hear him with my magic, m'lady, it's not pretend!"

"Oh! Well then..." She looked up at Arthur, smiling politely again. "Won't you come in? It's very kind of you to have escorted my _favorite_ druid to me."

Nodding a bit he jumped as Mordred made a pleased sort of hooting sound, the child taking her by the hand as she moved to go inside. "I'm your favorite now?? I thought that was Morgana!"

"It was always you, Morgana doesn't count." She replied, ruffling his hair as Arthur went inside behind them and closed the door.

***

As it turned out "the fair lady Guinevere" as Mordred avidly called her was making bread that day that the child was keen to get his hands on, the woman kindly indulging him so long as he helped her. Thankfully she allowed Arthur to sit quietly by with a cup of watery mead, the blonde man watching their exchanges with interest. He wondered if this was similar in any way to how peasant mothers behaved with their children.

He was broken from his observation when the door opened again, the wind rolling in quickly to ruin the moment anyway as two men came in, one much older than the other. They paused, the younger not lingering as long in his looking and closing the door behind him. However the older man was not so easily halted in his looking, his brown eyes looking over Arthur with an unnerving recognition.

"Ah, good you're both home. I was beginning to think you were going to dawdle like last time." Guinevere greeted, looking over her shoulder at them as she kneaded the last of the dough, Mordred crouched by the fire watching the loaves cook. "This is Merlin's friend: Arthur."

Raising a hand meekly beneath the scrutiny he offered a wave as he'd done before, the younger raising an eyebrow and nodding to him, the older finally shaking himself out of his daze and nodding as well.

Rolling her eyes at the lack of introductions Guinevere supplied them. "Arthur, this is my little brother Elyan and my father, Thomas."

'A pleasure to meet you both, I'm sure.' A moment later Mordred turned and repeated it to them, earning him baffled looks. "He said it. I just repeated." The boy said with a shrug, the two looking at Arthur worriedly as he offered them a helpless sort of gesture to say "druids, right?"

Thankfully neither stayed to chat, the two setting down whatever supplies they'd brought with them before going back out to unpack their unsold wares. Guinevere sighed, putting the final loaf down to cook before wiping her hands off and sitting across from Arthur. "I'm sorry, they're not terribly friendly these days. Winter always makes the worst out of them."

Offering her a sympathetic smile he drew his cloak closer about himself, looking down at his half filled cup. 'I don't blame them. They're making the worst out of me as well. Or at least it feels that way.'

She looked surprised when she heard Mordred speak the words but seemed to figure it out fairly quickly as to who was actually talking, turning her attention back to Arthur as she idly tucked some hair behind her ear. "It gets easier, I can tell you're not used to it... Clearly you're from somewhere much warmer."

'You could say that.' He replied, shifting slightly in his seat. 'At most it was a little better insulated.'

She giggled slightly. "Well we're better off than most, at least those without magic."

Arthur nodded at that, he'd had the feeling that the Druids would keep warmer with some kind of spell. It was undoubtedly how Mordred was able to gallivant about like it was only Autumn.

'... Mordred told me why he's not allowed out on his own... Is this a problem this area has often?'

Guinevere seemed surprised at the question, apparently having only expected polite or purely impersonal things to be exchanged. "...not as much anymore... But at times it can be hectic. Essetir doesn't seem to care one way or another so those who live in these parts have to figure out their own way to stay safe..."

'That's awful.' Unfortunately Mordred's mimicry held all of his anger at that. Guinevere smiled sincerely at him for the first time.

"We're okay. We're much safer than when I was small..." Pursing her lips she looked at the tabletop before seeming to make up her mind about something. "The slavers used to camp the roads all along here hoping to grab travelers that wouldn't be missed... We were all caught when we were traveling to... My father wanted to find new work..."

Shaking her head a bit she looked back up at Arthur, the blonde feeling odd from her expression. This was clearly difficult to talk about, so why was she going on?

"They caught all of us, my father, me, Elyan... Morgana and Gaius too. They have things even to cage sorcerers..." She grimaced, Arthur suddenly feeling like she knew more about him than she had been letting on. He really should've figured given who she associated with. "I met Merlin that way. They'd caught us all and were going to sell us in Powys."

'Clearly that didn't happen.' He stated, brow furrowing as he forced himself to not ask anything more invasive than that. He really didn't want to know what she'd heard about him.

Shaking her head she offered him another sincere smile. "No M-... Morgana and Gaius managed to get us all free and we ran. The druids helped us to hide and then we just... ended up staying around here."

'That must've been terrifying... I'm surprised you didn't travel farther away.'

"The druids were kind to us so my father decided to help them in return. After that we just were comfortable here. The druids cast spells now to keep the slavers from finding clear paths or from following anyone great lengths so your escorting Mordred isn't actually necessary, it just makes everyone feel better."

Brow furrowing at that he just nodded, Mordred suddenly piping up with a question about the bread, drawing Guinevere away again and leaving him to his thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took way too much brain power but I swear it's important.


	15. So Close

With the tales of Guinevere's youth rattling around inside his head Arthur resolved to walk Mordred back to the druid encampment despite the assurances of his safety, more than once tempted to tuck the boy under his arm instead of allowing him to walk.

"You'd just drop me." Mordred sniped, sticking out his tongue at Arthur over his shoulder before trudging on into the thicker treeline, the blonde scrunching his nose up at the intrusion. Stupid boy.

Thankfully Winter had driven most of the druids into their tents, leaving the majority of the encampment absent of onlookers as they headed through toward the one at the center, only a few outside and all busy with this or that. Mordred opened the tent flap and ducked inside, grabbing Arthur's wrist just before to yank him in with him.

'A little warning!'

"You'd have run." Mordred muttered back, letting him go once the tent flap was closed and tied so the wind wouldn't pull it astray. Inside it was warm and and floral smelling, dried flowers and herbs hung up around the opposing side, Morgana settled on her bedding near them seeming to be working on some sort of embroidery. Or at least that was Arthur's best guess, he had no idea whether or not common folk practiced such things. In the least she was doing something repetitive with a needle and dyed thread.

"I'm surprised he survived the walk into the encampment." She drawled, not looking up as her brother went to the low table and deposited his spoils: two small loaves of bread, now quite woefully cooled.

"He's getting better every day." Mordred replied, Arthur making a face at him for talking about him as though he wasn't there. "Especially without you scaring him." He added, making the blonde man cringe and rub a hand over his eyes.

"Ah yes, I, the most terrifying villain of all. Surely Wart cannot stand the sight of me." Morgana hummed, stopping to take a look at her handiwork.

'You'd be easier on the eyes if you stopped making ghastly faces all the time.' Arthur thought, frowning some. Instead of his message getting delivered, though, Mordred broke down into a giggling fit, collapsing against the side of the table to bury his face against his arm. Arthur could only roll his eyes.

He found that despite his unheard commentary that Morgana still fixed him with a dirty look, his cheeks coloring vaguely for the shame he felt despite not having got his exact words across. Perhaps that would've been too much.

'Tell her that if she wants to come around and visit that she shouldn't stay away on my account. I'm fine.'

Wheezing a little the boy repeated him, lifting his head after the first few words. At least that softened her expression somewhat.

"Why thank you." She replied, eyeing him a bit before setting her fabric and needle aside, smoothing her skirts as she sat up better. Her posture vaguely reminded him of the ladies of the court, it strikingly similar in a way that utterly baffled him. Most of the druid women he'd seen seemed determined to slouch. "Maybe I'll take you up on that offer in Spring... I'd rather not chance insinuating myself into something tense."

The look she was giving him made him feel like he was bound to combust, the implications not going over his head. The morning's problems threatening flood back into his mind in a far too eager manner, the exiled prince just barely managing to keep them at bay if only for Mordred's sake.

Finally breaking eye contact he just nodded a little, ignoring the quiet laugh that practically preceded his response. The woman was an utter devil, clearly taking great pleasure in his torment.

***

When Arthur got back to the cottage it was nearly dusk, the blonde man ducking inside just as the last rays of light reached up from the horizon. Inside Merlin was seemingly right where he left him, though he was reading instead of working. Looking up he smiled, the shorter man unable to resist the urge to smile in return.

"Have a good time with Mordred?" He asked, sounding almost like he was teasing as Arthur dropped down onto the bench beside him, still wrapped up in his cloak as he waited for the cold to ease out of his bones. Arthur finally gave a bit of a shrug to the question, not entirely sure. It wasn't unpleasant he supposed.

"Well that's good... You seemed to be getting a bit stir crazy. Wouldn't want you to be in a foul mood the whole season through... Especially not with only me to take it out on." Oh Merlin was definitely teasing now. Arthur huffed at him, nudging his shoulder with his in response.

Merlin seemed pleased with himself regardless. "So how did you like her?" For whatever the question felt strange posed like that, as though the physician had some kind of expectations already.

Arthur really couldn't say, no pun intended. She'd been nice, friendly. Perhaps they'd get to be friends after a time if he stayed... But really there wasn't much to feel. He only could give Merlin a rather helpless look and shrug again.

Rolling his eyes at that Merlin chuckled, closing his book so he could rest his head on his hand, his elbow leaned on the worn leather cover as he looked at Arthur. "That was terribly specific... I hope you were polite to her."

The blonde man looked at him with mock indignation, earning another bit of laughter from the taller man. "Even without words you're an utter prat, Arthur. You can't blame me for being concerned."

It occurred to him how close they were when Merlin's words fanned warmth across his face, worse yet Arthur found he'd been watching Merlin's mouth through the majority of the exchange, his lips looking rosy and inviting in a way that felt strange and disturbing. Why couldn't he stop this?

Why did his heart have to betray him this way? This was no way to act.

"Arthur..." The way Merlin murmured his name it sounded close to a question on it's own, though no words followed it to elaborate. Raising his gaze he found that they were nearly nose to nose, his heart beating out of whack as it had so many times before while looking at the dark haired man.

They were so close.

He couldn't do this.

Taking a quick breath in Arthur broke eye contact and turned his face away, getting up and taking off his cloak as Merlin made a noise of surprise. The moment was broken. Merlin would thank him for this, surely...

After a beat or two of silence Merlin muttered something about tending to dinner, shuffling out of his seat to find something to busy himself with. Shutting his eyes tight Arthur pushed all of his invasive impulses away, letting his arms fall uselessly to his sides as his took a deep breath in.

Merlin would thank him someday.


	16. Traitorous Thoughts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haven't caught up with Merlin's side of things in a while, have we?

Merlin didn't know what kept possessing him, the close quarters, that ridiculous smile? Why did Arthur keep confounding him so!?

Even worse was that it seemed they both suffered the same problem, the dark haired man having felt a sharp stab of disappointment when Arthur had suddenly looked at him like a startled deer and pulled away. If only they could get this out of their system perhaps it would go away...

Grinding his teeth slightly as he stirred together a watery soup Merlin forced himself not to look Arthur's way, the desire to ask questions an overwhelming one when not looking at him, the warlock knowing full well that it would be irresistable when looking into the blonde man's eyes.

Freya and he had promised to handfast in the Spring following her return... Why was there such temptation to the contrary now of all times? Was it the extended time apart? It was driving him mad...

Chancing a look back at his patient he cursed profusely in his head, the first thing his eyes caught on were his lips in the midst of Arthur licking them. Turning back quickly he pressed a hand over his eyes.

Goddess, why this!?

***

Attempting to sleep that night was torture, the two of them in that little cot with all the blankets and cloaks piled on top to keep the cold away. Merlin hadn't been using the druidic preservation spells to keep the heat better as he did in years prior and he was paying for it in unexpected ways. He'd thought that Arthur would kick or shove him off the bed in the night but instead he was perfect, barely moving or jostling Merlin in a surprising turn of events.

The true problem was that he liked to cuddle, and somehow more than once he'd found himself reciprocating in the middle of the night, an uncomfortable _physical_ truth being exposed by the proximity.

Shamefaced Merlin had cast silencing spells on himself for the last fortnight so he could relieve the problem in peace. It was equal parts infuriating and baffling. It was more than lust plaguing him, the bone deep desire to just hold Arthur unmistakable.

Pressing the heels of his palms to his eyes Merlin tried to drive away the remnants of his latest dream, the flashes of it making his prick throb agonizingly as he listened to Arthur snore.

He'd been dreaming of furiously taking advantage of his patient, his _friend_ , the image of his back as he held Arthur bent over the table taunting him as he scrubbed at his eyelids. He'd been naked and his skin had been still dripping from a dip in the lake, Merlin remembering vividly how they'd rolled down his back as the blonde arched into his thrusts.

Muttering obscenities Merlin cast yet another spell to silence himself, shoving a hand into his trousers and gripping his cock, letting the images return as he started to stroke. He'd seen Arthur undressed before, the shorter man strangely shameless in his presence.

The man's arse was obscene in shape, truly like nothing Merlin had ever seen before in his limited travels, and his _thighs_ were thick to match. Rider's thighs. Goddess knew what Arthur's life was like before but he thanked his lucky stars that whatever it had been had involved copious time on a horse.

In his dream he'd been taking the other man at a fevered pace and he now attempted to match it with his hand, Merlin letting his imagination fill in the gap of Arthur's expressions, the man in his mind's eye turning to look back at him, mouth open as he breathed hard, lips brighter colored as though he'd been biting them.

Cursing through gritted teeth he came to that image, covering his palm with spend and then immediately magicking it away, pulling his hand out and breaking the spell he'd cast quickly. The sooner he dismissed these invasive, covetous thoughts, the sooner he could get to sleep and perhaps forget this happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to.


	17. Reunion

Winter passed slowly as Winter is want to do, everyone counting the days till Ostara to keep the cold out of their hearts. More visits were made to Guinevere's homestead, Arthur never shaking the eeriness that he felt from Thomas' stare, but he came back anyway, enjoying the company and the fresh baked goods she and his little translator turned out.

Then one day the grass began to show through again, the frozen earth giving way to life again, the whole world sighing in relief... Though one thing had yet to change.

Bedsharing continued to happen despite the waning cold, it seeming that neither of them was willing to break the pattern. Arthur couldn't parse why he was so desperate to keep this nightly struggle, his frequently problematic dreams of the physician only adding to his stress... But still he couldn't bring himself to stop flopping down beside Merlin on the cot every night, even as cramped and ridiculous as it was at that point.

"You're thick." Mordred grunted one fine Spring morning, creeping up on Arthur as he pondered that very thought, as he did some of the dish washing out in front of the cottage. Pulling a face at the boy as he rounded front Arthur went back to what he was doing. Scrubbing helped him think.

After a minute or two of the silent treatment the temperamental mite spoke up again. "Ar _thur_ I want to go to Guinevere's."

'And?' He asked, glancing up at him with a bored expression as he scrubbed out a bowl.

Mordred squinched up his face, crossing his arms as he glared at the exiled prince. "And you've got to go with me!"

'Busy.' Arthur replied as cheerfully as he could figure in his mind, smirking at the boy as he got even more incensed at the behavior.

"You're just BEING difficult for fun!! You're handing me all the spoons about it!"

'Then why are you getting so mad? You know what that means for you.'

The boy threw up his hands, raking them down his face. "Because you're making me wait!!"

'My, I think I've spoiled you, Mite.'

The noise that came out of Mordred next was a shrieky yell, the boy throwing himself backward and covering his face. "You're the worst! All it is is _Mer_ lin this and _Mer_ lin that! It goes round and round and you never are quiet! At least when you're around Guinevere you can think of other things!!"

Arthur's face went hot just as the door to the cottage banged open, Merlin poking his head out. "Who's talking about me?"

Mordred just covered his face and shrieked into his hands. "NOT YOU!!"

Merlin stared wide eyed down at the reaction before turning to Arthur, brow raised. "...you were teasing him too much again, weren't you."

The blonde could only gesture helplessly. It was mostly not his fault... mostly.

***

In the end after Mordred had calmed down and Merlin had gotten wind of where they were headed the three of them went to visit Guinevere, Merlin having business with her of some kind that he was leery of revealing the nature of. Arthur wondered why he'd been so tight lipped lately... Perhaps it was that?

Hopefully whatever was bothering him would be solved after this, Arthur had begun to worry he was well and truly ill with how unchatty he'd been as of late... seemingly since Spring had started to show...

Suffering a sharp little elbow ramming into his side Arthur barely resisted the urge to knock Mordred around the head, shooting him an angry look as Merlin raised a hand to wave and call out to the woman who stood feeding her few chickens in front of her home.

When Arthur finally looked back he found it hard to walk, stumbling as a ginger headed man rounded the side... Coming over from the forge side of things with Elyan in tow.

Mordred stopped and looked back at him, brow furrowing at his behavior. "...Arthur?"

"ARTHUR!?"

The blonde man almost shouted in response to his name, lungs filling up in anticipation of it before he quelled it, charging forward to meet the other man, seizing him in a fierce embrace as they met in the middle and burying his face in his shoulder.

'Leon.'

His knight was an utter mess, gripping at him just as tightly and praising any deity he could name it seemed as he partly laughed and cried for the joy of it, Arthur's own tears of relief catching on the rough fabric of his tunic.

Pulling back Arthur grabbed at his shoulders, looking him over as his face hurt from how wide his smile had become, Leon wiping his eyes as he looked back, scrubbing his hand through his hair and then over his mouth, clearly trying to find composure that was not coming soon to either of them.

He nearly forgot that anyone else was there. At least he had till Merlin cleared his throat carefully, drawing their attention away from each other at last.

In his most diplomatic tone of voice Merlin finally did what he was born to do: state the absolute obvious.

"So you know each other I take it."

Arthur could've laughed. Of course Merlin would say such a thing. He should've known.

Leon cleared his throat, smiling sheepishly as he gripped Arthur's shoulder. "...my apologies... It's just been a while... Since we've seen one another?"

Guinevere and Merlin shared a look, the pair looking back at Leon with unimpressed expressions. Arthur simply nudged Leon, gesturing for him to go ahead and say more instead of just leaving it to that. Thankfully Leon understood.

"Well it's not a lie, just... Last we met I had figured one of us would be dead after that point... Hence the reaction."

Mordred just snickered, looking between the pair of them and rolling his eyes. "Well at least you've got manners... Unlike _some_ people I know."

Arthur kicked at him for that, Mordred narrowly dodging before running to hide behind Gwen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So finally we're nearing a reveal... How exciting.


	18. Counsel

After an awkward beat or two Mordred suddenly piped up of his own accord, stepping out from behind Gwen. "Arthur wants to talk to Leon privately, you two should go inside." He waved a hand at Merlin, as though shooing him. "You've got your own business, right?"

Merlin looked immediately to Arthur, seeming to check if he was the one building those sentences, to which the blonde just shook his head, raising his hands to express that it hadn't been him prompting the child.

"Is that correct, Arthur?" Merlin finally asked, eyebrow cocked.

Looking briefly embarrassed he shrugged, trying to manage to express that he didn't want to hold him up or anything. 'If it's not too much to ask?'

Mordred's echo of the question had Merlin sighing a little, scrubbing a hand through his hair. "All right, just knock before you come in." The physician replied, heading into Guinevere's house with the woman in tow, Leon looking on in a bewildered manner as the boy practically bounced over to stand at Arthur's side.

"...Arthur?" Leon asked quietly, looking between the child and his former leader with an expression that spoke of worry and trepidation. Arthur gave him a tight smile, reaching up and patting his throat before prompting Mordred.

'The curse I'm under keeps me from speaking or writing... So let's just say I've got to be creative about how I communicate.'

Brow furrowing as he looked down at Mordred the bearded man mimicked what Arthur had done. "You got that entire sentence just from him doing this?"

At that Mordred let out a laugh. "No! I'm not reading his hands I'm reading his thoughts!" As though it was the most obvious thing there was. "I can hear him so I help get his words to everyone else."

The red haired knight's gaze snapped back to Arthur, the worry he'd picked up on before increasing in intensity. The exiled prince could only offer him a nod.

"And you're _all right_ with that, sire?" Leon prompted, his tone tentative.

Arthur merely nodded again. 'Much has happened since we parted... I'm glad you did not suffer further harm.' He patted Leon's shoulder, pulling him into walking with them. They'd walk around the forest nearby, no need to linger near unnecessary ears.

"So how is it you came to be here?" The bearded man posed, thankfully keeping an open mind to the goings on.

'Sometime after we parted Merlin found me beside an old road and took me home with him... I'd passed out from exhaustion. Luckily he's a physician so he took me in and helped me to the best of his ability... I've been staying with him these last months.'

"...have you..." He paused, glancing around before going on with his sentence. "Have you told them who you are?"

'Only Mordred is aware. Thus far he's been a dutiful secret keeper.'

"Thanks Arthur." The boy chirped after he'd finished speaking for him, the blonde man reaching out and ruffling his dark hair fondly.

"And how is it that you know this child?"

'He's a Druid from a nearby encampment. Merlin deals with them frequently so I met Mordred, his adoptive sister Morgana, and her grandfather. He's who Merlin trained beneath... A man named Gaius...'

Leon's brow had drawn together sometime during that part, the ginger looking at him with slight alarm. Sometimes Arthur forgot how much older the other man was than him... He likely knew Gaius through his father.

'...you're not wrong. He told me himself that he once worked in Camelot.'

The other knight let out a harsh breath, scrubbing a hand over his mouth as he digested all of that information. "...and they... Gaius and Morgana live with the Druids?"

'...well, they _are_ Druids as far as I can tell. Both of them use magic fairly freely... Though Gaius less so as far as I've seen. Morgana is a holy terror when I'm around either way.'

At that Leon laughed, giving Arthur a sidelong look. "I'm sure she is."

What did that mean?

'...so how is it that you ended up here?'

The taller man huffed out a laugh, gesturing back toward the still visible homestead. "Guinevere's mother worked in our household... I scarcely believed my eyes when I saw him but I recognized Thomas right away." Leaning against a nearby tree he looked up toward the sky, the new leaves just beginning to show above them. "I'd been traveling around looking for you till just a few weeks ago... I needed work and Thomas needed an extra hand in his forge... So here I am."

'...small world.'

"Alarmingly so." Leon replied, laughing again thereafter. "But perhaps it's fate."

'Perhaps it is... I had been considering leaving these last few weeks.' Arthur admitted, Mordred not looking terribly surprised. He must've caught wind of it some time ago. 'Our reuniting may be a sign I should.'

"What will you do?"

'... I had thought perhaps I'd rebuild our forces, go and see if old alliances still hold true or if Rheged's usurpers now hold all the cards.' It was only a half formed plan. It felt as though only a miracle could give him the ability to retake Camelot.

"As it is the climate with the other kingdoms has not been the most favorable... Essetir itself is even avoiding treating with the spares and they are the most magic friendly and least fond of Camelot before..." The redheaded man explained, giving Arthur some strange spark of hope even with as little information as that. "I think the other kingdoms fear a hostile take over is in their futures as well."

'All the more reason to act.' Arthur said after a moment, pursing his lips as he thought. 'With only their own forces to aid them they'd be helpless if faced with even two armies worth of men.'

"...even better if they come equipped with magic as well as swords."

The blonde man looked to his comrade, seeing the remnants of his father's laws in every line of his body. Leon was loyal and just, and had followed his orders as any knight of the realm should've.

But that didn't mean he couldn't think for himself, nor lack the ability to change.

Arthur had changed too.

'Indeed... But you should return to the forge for now... I've kept Mordred long enough.'

The boy surprisingly didn't comment, only shrugging a bit at the sentiment as though he was perfectly fine missing out on Guinevere's company... As though he hadn't pitched a huge fit not a hour before over it.

Leon nodded, pushing off the tree and falling into step with them as they headed back toward the building in question. Before they were close Leon leaned in, speaking into Arthur's ear. "...will you tell them?"

Arthur looked up at him, sighing some and just shrugging, his hands splayed outward. He wasn't sure it would matter.

"If this physician helped you as you said I believe it would be only fair that you give him the courtesy of the full story... Especially if you mean to retake Camelot. I'm sure he'd be proud to know he helped a King."

King...

Arthur bit his lip, shrugging again as Leon broke off, the man patting his shoulder and giving him a meaningful look as he headed toward the back where Thomas and Elyan were working, Mordred and he pushing the door open and entering just as Merlin was speaking.

"We'll handfast at the end of the month, then-" The sentence broke off when the pair of them closed the door, the dark haired man looking alarmed as Guinevere covered the mildly anguished expression from the interruption. "You were supposed to knock!"

"Whoops." Mordred supplied, completely nonchalant and unrepentant, Arthur's mind utterly stuck around the word 'handfast' instead of anything else. Handfast? HANDFAST??

The boy beside him elbowed him hard, yelping when Arthur automatically cuffed him in return. "Arthur focus!!"

Once he was brought back into the present the blonde looked between Guinevere and Merlin, brow furrowed as he tried to look for an explanation without asking for one. Merlin and Guinevere surely weren't going to...

"Stop staring!" Merlin groused, earning a nervous laugh out of the woman, Guinevere covering her face as the physician's cheeks turned red. "Don't jump to any conclusions, Wart, it's not your business."

"Am I invited?" The Druid boy asked impishly, sticking out his tongue as Merlin squawked. "What? It's a legitimate question, I'm a Druid, she's a Druid... Why wouldn't I get to come?"

"This is not up for discussion." The taller man groaned, putting his head in his hands as Guinevere laughed again. "This is why this was supposed to be a private conversation!"

Arthur snorted, looking down at Mordred. 'As if anything could be private with you around.'

"Hey! It's not like I want to hear all this!"

'You're as nosy as they come, just admit it.'

For that Mordred kicked him in the shin, the blonde gritting his teeth and grabbing for him. 'MORDRED!'

"You started it!!"


	19. Still So Far

The next day they went fishing, Arthur's mind still awash with the complicated thoughts that had burst to life the day before, the whirlwind consuming him the entire night as he tried to sleep beside the physician.

What did it mean to be a King? What did it matter when your kingdom was held by another? He was as any other man, now. Could do anything he wanted with only the repercussions an ordinary man would have. There were no alliances to make, no promises to keep.

And yet...

"I wonder if this would suit you as well unhexed." Merlin commented idly, breaking Arthur from the spinning orbit his mind had brought, the blonde arching an eyebrow as he met the other man's gaze. Evidently he'd been watching him; Arthur wondered how long.

"Well they _do_ say this is the sport of silence." He elaborated, Arthur immediately rolling his eyes. Of course Merlin would make a crack at his expense. Arthur reached out and shoved on the other man with his foot, making the boat rock as the dark haired man squawked.

Silence falling over them again the exiled prince studied the ripples on the water, letting his mind wander beyond the topic that had kept him up all night.

Living here with Merlin was nice... He could be comfortable staying just like this for the rest of his life, voice or no voice. He felt guilty to think of it but his life before seemed to pale in comparison... At least in how happy he'd been. Even with the bits of turmoil he felt better here than he'd ever had in courtly life.

He supposed expectations had ruined it to a point.

"Arthur..."

Looking back he found that Merlin had for the moment propped his pole to the side, the paler man turning and sitting to face his companion better. "Arthur there's something I need to say to you... Something I should've said before."

Turning around as well he set his pole to the side, deciding to give Merlin as good as he'd given. The other man looked melancholy as he cleared his throat a bit, his fingers fidgeting a bit with the loose fabric of his dark breeches. It was a rare sight to behold... Rarely did he ever look like this when faced with Arthur alone.

Leaning in some he peered at the younger man, impulsively reaching out and curling a hand over one of Merlin's. It didn't seem to help but to his great relief Merlin didn't pull away, either.

"Arthur..." Merlin started again, looking earnestly into his eyes as he labored to bring the words out. "Arthur..." For a terrifying moment Arthur thought they might finally bring an end to the very thing they'd been avoiding.

"... I promised to handfast to Freya before Ostara..." The words trickled out, a wash of icy calm suddenly moving through Arthur and making him numb to the bittersweet pain that had pricked in just before. "When she... She went to train on the Isle of the Blessed I promised that when she returned we would."

Looking down at their hands Arthur wondered how he hadn't noticed. Freya had been by often enough. They had always been... Well, at the least he'd never been wrong about how they'd been to each other.

Biting his lip the blonde man took Merlin's hand between his, nodding a bit before raising his gaze, smiling at him as kindly as he could manage. He understood. It was all right.

"I meant to tell you... But there was always something to interrupt... Something to keep me from it. I should've told you sooner..." The trailing sentence implied something more was left, but Arthur didn't have the heart enough to listen to more.

Letting Merlin's hand go he reached one of his own up and ruffled his hair, turning back around and taking to his fishing pole again, turning his thoughts to their catch and not the burning ache in his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this hurt.


	20. Goodbyes

After a week of thinking it over he finally made up his mind.

It wouldn't do to linger. Merlin needed the space, after all, and three in that tiny excuse for a cottage would never work out. Freya and Merlin needed the time to feel each other out _alone_ , no need to get in the way.

The afternoon was actually the warmest they'd had yet, Arthur basking in the sun as he waited for Mordred to come back with his things. Leon had told him he'd had an inkling where they could find allies to start their work, the three of them discussing it at length during the last few days to make sure their ideas were clear cut and sound... As if retaking Camelot wasn't inherently mad as it was.

Rapid footfalls heralded the child's arrival, the blonde man opening his eyes and sitting up so Mordred didn't go and leap onto his stomach like the last time he'd caught him unawares. 'Got everything?'

"More than. Morgana is demanding you come talk to her before we leave." Mordred huffed, dropping his things beside the exiled prince before flopping down onto them, Arthur snorting softly.

'Of course she does. She's looking out for you. Probably will want to hex my ears right off before she lets me take you along.'

"She's all talk." The boy replied, sticking out his tongue as he rolled his eyes. "She just likes having the advantage."

'Duly noted.' He replied, raising his head and looking toward the cottage with a tinge of apprehension gripping at his gut. This last thing would make their plans final.

"He could help you if you only would ask."

Mordred's words made him frown, Arthur shaking his head as he pushed up onto his feet finally. The last thing he'd ask Merlin to do for him was to come along on such a cause. The only reason Mordred was coming along was because translation was necessary, and even with reason Arthur still felt the guilt heavy on him; a child really didn't deserve to be mixed up in such things.

When he finally looked back he found the door open, Merlin standing in the doorway looking between the two bemusedly. "...what's all that?"

Dread grabbed at him next, Arthur squaring his shoulders as he motioned for the boy to get up and stand beside him.

'There's something I should've said before. I've been meaning to tell you for a while.'

The statement made Merlin's brow furrow, Arthur continuing as he forced his eyes to stay on the other man. For whatever reason he felt the desperate urge to look away.

'Thank you.'

Mordred gave him a look after that part, the blonde holding out a hand to forestall any commentary as he worked this out.

'Thank you for helping me, for trying your best to solve the problems of a total stranger... It's a kindness I have not known before, and I am better for knowing it now...'

"...Arthur, it really-" Merlin started, this time earning the signal to stop.

'You kept me going when I was hurting. I don't know if I can ever repay what you've done for me, but... If I become King I will try my best.'

The silence after that part was deafening, Arthur shifting nervously before dropping into a formal bow, one he'd done for Merlin some time before. 'I am Prince Arthur of Camelot.' He stated as he stood back up normally, finding the tall man white as a ghost. Somehow that hurt.

'I hope... I hope knowing that doesn't change anything... I don't want it to. But either way... I'm leaving.'

"You're not going back to Camelot." Merlin stated, almost as though he was giving an order.

'I am... In time.'

"No, you- Arthur that's _mad_."

Arthur shook his head. 'It can be done. There are allies that remain loyal and scattered men as well. I cannot allow my people to suffer further... I've been too long in exile as it is.'

Merlin looked fit to burst, his hand gripping the doorway to the cottage before he sped forward, the blonde almost backpedaling out of shock before he was seized in a tight hug, the physician's face buried in his shoulder as he cradled the back of his head in one hand. This embrace was... Well...

"You're a prat." The taller man grunted, Arthur suddenly feeling the urge to laugh as he finally let himself go to wrap his arms around the physician, holding him tight.

This was the last time.

"...come on." Mordred murmured, breaking the silence finally. "Leon's waiting."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2nd reveal done. One to go!


	21. The Journey Ahead

They said their goodbyes fairly quickly after that, meeting up with Leon at Thomas' home, Arthur unsurprised to find the man in question staring at him stonily from the doorway as Leon and Mordred sorted out what they wanted to do with the baggage on Leon's steed, the two discussing quietly the merit of getting a cart in the future.

Arthur never knew what to do with himself around Thomas. He really didn't want to know why he'd so easily recognized who he was. There was something about Guinevere's lack of mother that made him feel uneasy... Only a guess perhaps... But it would not be outside the realm of guessing as to why Thomas had taken his family out of Camelot alongside Gaius.

There was much to make up for... But first there had to be a means to make up for it.

Perhaps knowing that... That his family had been dethroned would satisfy him some?

"Arthur," Mordred piped up at his elbow, nudging him as an afterthought as Arthur's attention was brought away from his thoughts. "Can I ride with you? Leon says it's not proper."

"Well it's not." Leon chuckled somewhere behind them. "Especially since you've declared yourself his squire."

Arthur raised an eyebrow at that, looking down at the boy with a frown. 'What's this now?'

The Druid boy colored, ducking his head as he toed the dirt. "...well... I'm your translator... So I figured I might as well make myself doubly useful?" The boy finally looked up again, grimacing through his embarrassment. "I promise I'll be good! Just... Just please teach me to be a knight? I want to serve in your court when we get it back!"

'The law as it stands would make that an impossibility.' Arthur replied, inclining his head at the behavior before glancing off, noting the soft footsteps he knew belonged to Gwen coming nearer. Thomas had gone from the doorframe, the woman replacing him with a much more welcoming expression.

"But you're the King!" Mordred grunted, looking close to throwing a fit at that reply. "You _make_ the laws!"

'I do.' He sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair. He'd always felt it an unfair hurdle when so many in the nobility seemed to lack the moral fortitude to be protecting those who could not. 'Perhaps that law will be rewritten in your favor.'

The boy beamed at him, grabbing him by the arm and tugging on him excitedly. "Really!? You really will!?"

'Well I've already got to change one thing for you, changing another would be no hardship.' Arthur returned, ruffling his hair with a soft smile. 'Perhaps you'll be the first knight of Camelot to weild magic as well as a sword.'

Mordred seemed agog with that thought, his eyes as wide as saucers. Oh if only Arthur could laugh that reaction would've been worth chuckling over. Instead he just grinned, grabbing Mordred's hood and pulling it up over his head. The boy squawked at the treatment, pulling the cloth out of his eyes. 'Go back to helping Leon and then say your goodbyes. I'm sure Guinevere has a lovely parting gift for you.'

Huffing theatrically at that Mordred flounced off without another word, clearly covering the excitement he felt, the bounce in his step utterly giving him away.

Quite suddenly someone cleared their throat behind him, the blonde man turning with brow furrowed to discover who the culprit was. Startlingly it turned out to be Thomas, a sword laid across his palms as he eyed him up.

"... Take care of Leon." He murmured, offering the blade to Arthur with no further preamble. Ducking his head slightly the exiled King took it by the hilt, pulling it away and holding it to the side to test it's weight and balance, finding it as close to perfect as he could've hoped for. Smiling he nodded his thanks, bowing slightly to the older man. There was nothing he could say that would suit better than that gesture.

Fully outfitted and loaded up they decided for the first part of the trek to walk, Leon insisting that if Arthur became weary that he climb into the saddle. What the other knight didn't anticipate was for Arthur to insist he do the same, the older man seeming subtly pleased by the reciprocated notion despite their difference of station.

Mordred was the first to break, clambering up into the saddle with huffy little noises like he was some kind of overgrown displeased cat, collapsing against the horse's neck to doze off stroking her mane. The two men silently agreed to make camp once daylight ran out.

Being Spring still it ran out quite readily, Leon starting a fire whilst Arthur took off to go collect some water, the blonde intending to put together a watery version of the stew Merlin had taught him to make.

Finding the stream at long last he filled their skins in the weak light, just finishing filling the last one as a person's reflection suddenly loomed over his own, the blonde jerking back and quickly grabbing for them.

But there was no one there.

"No, no, come back here. In the water, Arthur." Came a woman's voice, Arthur cringing just slightly when he recognized it. Leaning back over the reflection remained as it had been in moments prior... Though now he had time to realize that it was Morgana standing over him in the water. Must she devil him, even here?

The woman seemed to notice his aggravation, rolling her eyes. "This has a purpose, Wart, I promise you. If I had the information before you left I would have given it in person... But now..." She shook her head, looking irritated. "My visions have been sporadic. I've only just now had one that aligns with current events."

Brow furrowing he made a gesture for her to continue.

"In seeking allies I know where you will find three. Two you will find in Nemeth, close to the border. They will help you reach Rodor's castle. The third you will find in Caerleon... Despite appearances they will be great assets, I promise you." She sounded eerily as though she were speaking about a myth rather than a prophetic matter. Morgana's brows drew together, strangely looking unsure after all that.

"...there is another matter... Seeking the favors of the other kingdoms to face Rheged's spares... I have seen the spires of Gawant and the fields of Mercia..." Shaking her head slightly Morgana looked into his eyes, the prolonged contact unsettling Arthur greatly. "I will scry again when I have more founded visions. For now you should seek the first few of your knights. Turn your eyes toward Nemeth." The sorceress hesitated again.

"...keep my brother safe." She murmured, giving Arthur a watery smile. "Mordred too."

Then with a wave of her hand she was gone from the water, leaving the blonde man baffled beyond belief. Must she interweave cryptic nonsense with her actual information? Shaking off the unsettled feeling he gathered up the water skins, trudging back toward camp. He'd have to wake the boy earlier than expected so they could discuss this. They'd meant to head into Kent for aid first... But evidently according to Morgana's vision it would not be found there.

He sighed, supposing he should be grateful for that. At least she was keeping them from wasting their time.

What did she even mean about her brother, though? Surely she wasn't implying that Leon and she carried some relation... Right?


	22. Familiar Face

The road to Nemeth was long, with every step Arthur thanked their lucky stars that Ealdor had not been farther north. Mordred's tolerance for long travel like this was getting better but not quickly, the boy taking the most advantage of their steed whilst Leon and he walked on.

It had been a while since Arthur had truly felt poorly about his lack of voice, wishing he could hold proper conversation with Leon more often than Mordred could manage. Or really, at minimum, one where he could speak completely freely.

Leon tried be accommodating, doing his best to pose things in ways that Arthur could answer with a nod or a simple gesture, the signals that they'd once used as Knights coming in handy to bridge the gap partially when some things couldn't be managed in that way.

The first challenge would be to find a place to barter for another steed, the second finding the best route to Rodor's door. If Morgana's vision held true they'd find their help amongst the common people... But that meant looking, and who knew how long that could take.

At least it was only a town on the border that was supposed to hold their first two "fated" companions. 

After several days of walking they found a town willing to part with one of it's mares, Mordred crooning at her happily as Arthur paid the farmer his fair share for both her and the meager saddle he had on hand. He was satisfied with the transaction, now far too used to making do to be picky. Swinging the boy up into the saddle in front of him he nodded to Leon, the pair of them starting off at a reasonable pace, not wanting to overexert either steed. Expediency wasn't needed just yet.

They made it to the border from their purchase point by nightfall, the men surprised to have found themselves that close to it. Shame they couldn't have gotten the horse sooner, they'd wasted nearly a week and a day on foot.

"Do you think if I start trouble these men will come running?" Mordred asked through a yawn as they trotted through the streets, heading for a tavern that they had stayed at once, long before. "They're supposed to be cut from the cloth of a Knight already, right?"

'I wouldn't recommend it. Who knows who else might come running if you did such a thing.' Arthur answered, sliding out of the saddle just after Leon touched down, leading the mare to the stable before pulling Mordred from her back. 'A low profile in this case is ideal... Let Leon do the talking.'

"I think it could help." The child sighed, holding onto his hand as they meandered into the establishment, Leon already ahead and taking care of their affairs.

'You're going to go to bed, that's what you're going to do.' The blonde replied, keeping hold of his hand as he eyed the room, wondering if things had changed much since he'd been in this kingdom.

"But I'm not tired." Mordred yawned, leaning against Arthur's arm.

'Of course not. But I need you out of the way so we can do our work. I don't need a voice for this sort of thing.' He didn't have time to fight with the child about this, meaning to take the boy upstairs as soon as Leon returned to his side.

"Upstairs and last on the left." Leon hummed out, patting Arthur on the shoulder as he leaned in close to his ear. "I'll get a table and some mead to start." He slid his bag from his shoulder to his King's, the blonde man nodding before heading across toward the stairs with Mordred in tow.

Once Arthur had sorted out the situation with the boy (who fell asleep two minutes into being in contact with the bedding) he trekked back down, finding Leon at a table in the corner and sliding into the seat across from him with a soft sigh, rubbing at his lower back as he leant against the table edge. Looking to the ginger bearded man he raised an eyebrow, his friend just shaking his head slightly.

Well at least he'd not missed anything.

Picking up the tankard of mead he put the rim to his lips, glancing casually out over the patronage again, wondering if they might be so lucky as to pick such allies out of a crowd. It seemed absurd to think as such, Arthur tapping absently at the tabletop with his fingertips as he set his drink aside.

After a while the barmaid came around, asking after whether or not they'd have interest in the freshly made stew or some of the roast venison that'd been likely cooking the entire day. Glancing to Leon he cupped his hand, hoping the other man got the idea.

Thankfully he did, giving her the order for stew instead of the probably overcooked deer. Truly it was a godsend that Leon could understand him like he did.

Anxiety suddenly assaulted his senses, things he had not considered coming to the fore. How could he hope to command and lead an army into Camelot with no voice to guide them? Would he have to... Would he have to sit back behind the lines of his men and hope they were directed well by whomever he chose to ride out in his stead?

Could he allow that? It made his stomach turn to think of not being able to stand alongside his fellow Knights and fight with them for their goal.

"...Arthur?" Leon murmured, drawing his attention up from where it had been glued to the rough hewn tabletop, the man in question looking concerned. "...are you all right?"

Rubbing a hand over his mouth briefly he gave a curt nod, reaching for his tankard again and bringing it to his lips.

He did not want to be a King that expected to be exempt from battle.

After a few hours of milling around in the public area of the tavern the pair of them mutually seemed to come to the conclusion that they should start making to go to their room.

As Leon drained the dregs of his drink from his tankard Arthur idly glanced toward the door as it opened, a hulking man pushing inside and heading toward the bar, a more average one following him in, though his face...

The familiarity was there, though his hair had been shorn short and he'd had a few days worth of beard on his cheeks. The years has been kind since Arthur last saw him.

"...aren't those Rodor's colors?" Leon asked quietly, though the question was entirely a rhetorical one. The two were indeed wearing Nemeth's colors... It seemed that they were part of the guard.

It shouldn't feel like a surprise since Lancelot had been one before.

"Isn't that...?"

Arthur nodded to the question, turning in his seat so he might get up, watching the pair across the tavern with eyes held high, not wanting allow them to wander. History as it was and circumstances as they were... He really didn't need to add that complication into the mix. He'd suffered enough.

"Wait here." Leon murmured, grabbing his tankard and heading for the bar, the blonde watching him sidle up to the two, turning his head and leaning in to speak to both. Arthur shifted, restless and unsure if he could handle this appropriately.

Thankfully it seemed neither man took offense to whatever Leon had said, the pair actually following him back to the table, Arthur ducking his head slightly as he slid over on the bench, sucking in a fortifying breath as Lancelot seated himself beside him.

"...been a long time." The man in question murmured as his companion seated himself beside Leon, the pair leaning forward with their elbows on the table, nearly mirroring the other in how they held their tankards. Arthur could only nod at the sentiment, just barely bringing his eyes up to acknowledge the other man properly.

Lancelot was even worse up close, his heart skipping a beat or two as the man smiled at him warmly. "Cat got your tongue, your highness?"

"Of a kind." Leon answered for him, Arthur glancing down as embarrassment rolled through him for some unknown reason. "That's what I asked you over for... We're here to seek an audience with the King... It would help us greatly if we had your aid in getting to the capital."

The burly man looked between the two of them before looking to Lance, eyebrow raising just slightly. The dark haired man just gave him a small nod, the other guard appearing to relax only slightly.

"That is something we can do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter ended up a little longer due to me trying to get setup out of the way; instead of being done in one sitting it was over a few days. Traveling stuff and figuring out how to introduce and handle Percy & Lance was hard to wrap my head around after things were set in Ealdor's area for so long.


	23. Nemethian Escort

Lancelot's companion, Percival, turned out to be a kind of silent type, making Arthur somehow feel more comfortable despite his trepidation over his lack of voice now that they'd accrued such allies. It left Lancelot and Leon to talk amongst themselves, the two of them silently enjoying the last of their mead without being pushed to be involved.

The conversation between Leon and Lancelot was one Arthur would've liked to have had the opportunity to participate in, however, the two covering the grounds of what the dark haired man had been doing since he left Camelot's service.

Likely neither man thought that Arthur had paid much mind to him leaving. Those in the guard ranks had circulated out fairly frequently unfortunately... The mortality rate during his father's reign had been unusually high due to dissent on his stance on and actions toward those who had magic.

Despite appearances Arthur had tried to keep track, wanting to pay respects however minute they might've been in retrospect to the men who served dutifully and often died to keep the castle and all it's people safe... Not to mention the general populace.

He remembered Lancelot's leaving for other reasons entirely.

The first time he'd seen the man he was asking after what it took to join the likes of Camelot's Knights, which to his great disappointment he'd found out (from Leon directly) that their ranks were reserved for the sons of Camelot's lords.

Despite the clear disappointment he asked whether such a requirement applied to the guard. After testing his mettle himself (out of the sudden, selfish desire to be paid attentions) Arthur had told Leon to recommend him to the Captain of the Guard, the prince leaving the scene with heart pounding from more than just physical exertion.

Lancelot's time in Camelot's ranks was not a long one, but all the same it was memorable, his rise in popularity not only amongst the guard but with the general staff as well had his name carrying from every nook of the castle.

Arthur had watched him at every opportunity that he could take.

When he left he'd felt a deep seated disappointment, and was troubled for a while as he was unable to ask directly after his reasoning for leaving. The rumor had it that his righteous streak was not quenched by such work and that he was off to seek his fortune elsewhere.

Evidently his fortune had been prolific. Once he had left he'd plied his trade as a mercenary through Essetir, handling the troubles of many villages and towns that were ignored by King Cenred, leading to him becoming something of a local legend. Eventually his traveling had brought him into Nemeth where he happened to meet Percival on the border, the man helping his family move from Essetir to the less tumultuous Kingdom.

The pair of them traveled to seek work in the more bustling area around Rodor's citadel and ended up thwarting an attempt on the Princess Mithian while she was walking the town, her personal guard gravely injured in repelling the assassin. For their reward they were offered a place in the royal staff, which both leapt at, Percival only for the employment, Lancelot for the prospect of advancement. Nemeth was a Kingdom that did not uphold the same values as Camelot had, and allowed those of the guard that were of exemplary character to earn Knighthoods.

"I am glad for you." Leon murmured in response to that point, Lancelot beaming at him and making Arthur's heart flutter in an aggravating manner. "If only Camelot had been a different place I would've been proud to work alongside you."

That opportunity may yet come, Arthur thought, sighing softly and glancing down into his empty tankard. If they made it through this quest he would never reinstate such a stipulation.

"If you're seeking protection with the King perhaps that opportunity will come?" Lancelot posed, tone cautious yet optimistic. Leon looked to Arthur, the blonde catching his eye but making no move to address what was said.

"In a way, maybe... There is more to the situation than I can say here. On the way to King Rodor's castle we can speak of it."

Percival glanced to Lancelot at that before turning his gaze to Arthur, curiously enough. Whatever he was thinking clearly had to do with him, but whatever the thought was he didn't voice it. Perhaps he was questioning their character. Arthur found he really couldn't blame him for that.

***

"Stop handing me spoons, Arthur." Mordred grunted loudly as he elbowed his offender in the stomach, the blonde man tempted if however so fleetingly to toss him from the mare, the boy scoffing in response. "You wouldn't dare."

Lancelot looked back to them questioningly before looking to Leon with hope of getting an explanation. They'd been riding for a hour or so and Leon had yet to deliver on his promise of further information, the two guards thus far tolerant of it, the look the first push.

Glancing around them (as though they wouldn't have noticed by now if there was someone else within earshot) Leon gave a cursory look toward his King before opening his mouth. "When Camelot was taken Rheged's spares cursed Prince Arthur to be unable to communicate on his own. Any sound he makes draws great pain and any word he attempts to write bursts into flame no matter where he writes them."

"...and the boy?" Lancelot prompted, casting another curious look their way.

"He's a Druid, a powerful one I'm told." Arthur snorted softly as Mordred puffed out his chest at the comment, clearly preening at the statement. "Somehow he's able to hear Arthur's thoughts despite the curse. As I understand it he's the only Druid who could despite their natural proclivities for telepathy. The boy said all others got a kind of shock for attempts they made."

"I'm Mordred." The boy cut in, apparently not satisfied with how he was being referenced. "You can refer to me as The King's Translator... Or the Royal Squire."

Arthur snorted loudly, covering his mouth as he worked to suppress his laughter properly, not wanting to come away from this with an aching throat.

Mordred elbowed him again. Lancelot looked pleased somehow.

"I had worried they'd cut out your tongue." The dark haired man commented, smiling at Arthur in a way that reminded him of Merlin suddenly. It was open affection... His heart for a moment beat wildly at the question of what that could mean.

"SPOONS, ARTHUR!" Mordred cried, burying his face in the mare's mane and whimpering theatrically. The blonde man cuffed him on the shoulder for his trouble. Damn mite.

'If I ever get wind of you even liking someone _a tiny bit_ I will NEVER let you hear the end of it, understand?'

"As if I'll ever be as gross as you." The boy grunted, slightly muffled by the mane he was now petting. "I'm never going to be like that about _anyone_."

'Just you wait.' He thought at him threateningly. 'As soon as you grow some more you're going to start, and then you'll see how awful it really is.'

Mordred just scoffed again, practically laying against the mare's neck as he stared off at the scenery. "In your dreams."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got to relearn about how Percival's family apparently died while doing some fact checking and so I decided to add another twist to the AU: Percy's family fucking moves and gets to live!


	24. Skirting Danger

It was two days on horseback to get to the citadel, the increase in people making Arthur feel unusually on edge, the sights and sounds getting the better of him as unpleasant memories vied for attention, his last hours in Camelot slamming to the fore after a while.

Small hands clasped over his as they rode through, Mordred giving them a squeeze. "Follow me." He whispered, just barely audible over the din. Arthur must've been on the verge of hyperventilating without realizing and dutifully followed the exaggerated breathing the boy employed till his head felt normal again.

'Thank you.'

"Don't mention it." The boy replied, taking his hands away to pet at the mare's mane, the four horses closing in on their destination, the courtyard of the castle coming into view.

Sliding from the saddle ahead of the others Lancelot hurried to one of the guards that stood by the steps, speaking to him in hushed tones as the four of them dismounted as well. With a nod the man headed off quickly, Lancelot motioning for them to follow. "He's gone ahead to request an audience with the King, but we must wait elsewhere." Glancing around he reached over and pulled the hood up on Arthur's cloak, gesturing for Leon to do the same.

"Princess Morfydd is here to discuss the lands of Gedref... Evidently your usurpers feel entitled to them because of the magic there..." The dark haired man looked to Percival, sharing a look before the pair directed the three of them through the unfamiliar halls. "We will hide you in the guard's quarters until it is safe."

"Thank you." Leon murmured, clasping Lancelot's shoulder before turning to offer the same gesture to Percival, the men only nodding in response.

Arthur's heart was like a rabbit's at the thought of that woman being near, vivid images of her blazing gold eyes and furious features catching him at every turn. He pressed a hand to his throat, the other holding tight to Mordred's hand.

He suddenly missed that ramshackle cottage in Essetir fiercely, guts twisting as he wished in a cowardly moment that he was back there and able to curl up in that bed with Merlin puttering around with his herbs nearby. There was nothing to soothe the panic here and his breath stuttered obviously as he fought for control of himself.

His nerves did not abate when they were behind closed doors, the five of them staring at one another for a few silent moments before Mordred attached himself to Arthur's middle, burying his face against the blonde's side. Guilt seizing him Arthur petted the boy's head, pulling his hood down further as he fought with his shame.

"Lancelot... Would King Rodor...?" Leon started, his own trepidation evident.

The guard shook his head, hand absently curling over the hilt of his sword. "No. Despite appearances I doubt this visit is a welcome one. The Princess and Prince are insatiable and it brings no comfort to Nemeth nor the surrounding Kingdoms. There have been few willing to treat with them and I would bet money that Morfydd came here with no warning."

"So we are in danger for the foreseeable future." The ginger haired man sighed out, carding a hand through his curls. "Wonderful."

"...perhaps the King will risk seeing you while she is here, but I don't know that that would be the best move. Better to keep you hidden and wait till she leaves to handle this, wouldn't you think?"

Lancelot had a fair point. If word got back that Arthur was alive and near the witch would undoubtedly rush to finish the job.

"Depends on the length... Perhaps..." Leon trailed off again, slowly sitting down on a nearby cot as he thought. "Perhaps correspondence would be a middle ground solution? Your comings and goings would be of no real interest to visiting nobility."

Arthur scoffed mentally at that description, still idly petting Mordred, the boy still holding his waist tightly.

"That seems sound." Lancelot replied, looking to Arthur for a moment or two before looking to his fellow guard, the burly man just shrugging slightly.

"It's better than a King taking a late night rendezvous." Percy commented, crossing his arms and leaning back against the wall.

"Then it's settled... I'll procure parchment and return shortly." Percy and he shared a look again before the dark haired man crossed to the door, quickly slipping out and shutting it quietly.

After a second or two of silence Percy finally pushed off the wall, going to a nearby chest and opening it. "Either of you fancy a game of chess?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who doesn't like a bit of chess when you're in technically mortal danger??


	25. Waiting in the Wings

Shortly ended up being not short at all, others of the guard squad coming and going while the four of them loitered in the corner of the quarters, Percy and Arthur silently working through a game of chess, every now and again Mordred asking various questions about the goings on. It was agonizing, Arthur's nerves never quite settling.

Lance returned at dusk, parchment and charcoal tucked into his belt, his brow looking shiny with sweat. Leon's brow furrowed at that, sharing a look with Arthur before speaking. "Are you all right?"

Breathing out a quiet laugh in response the dark haired man pulled the items from his belt, laying them out on the table beside the board before speaking. "In a way. The Princess requested that I remain nearby during the feast. She wanted my eyes on the witch as she fears she may make an attempt on the King's life."

Arthur couldn't muster a feeling of surprise at that. Leon seemed to share that. "She relies on you for such things?"

"She trusts myself and Percy to be wary. More than once we've been able to spot something awry, though nothing so major since our initial employment. I feel she may be overestimating my talents, but I could not refuse her." Lance smiled awkwardly at that, carding a hand through his hair. "Morfydd behaved as far as I could tell. I hope she stays that way... Not many in Rodor's employ have magic, though it is not a discouraged activity. Aside from his Court Sorcerer I think there are only four others who practice within the citadel."

"It's likely that the staff and guard that accompanied her to the castle will be able to wield magic, possible all of them in offensive positions." Leon hypothesized, stroking his beard as he frowned over the situation. "Though I wouldn't think she'd be expecting any kind of action it's not as though the climate of Camelot has settled..."

"Thankfully she was accompanied by a small party... Only two hand maidens and four knights." The dark haired guard replied, Arthur wondering if such a fearsome witch truly needed the protection. "I've arranged to swap shifts for tonight with another of the guard, that should afford me the opportunity needed to start correspondence. Hopefully we can catch wind soon enough of when Morfydd will be taking her leave so we can make future arrangements for you... I'm sure that you'd much prefer to be somewhere more comfortable."

Arthur snorted softly, feeling strangely fond at the obvious care behind the words instead of the mocking it could've been from anyone else. Shaking his head he glanced to Mordred. 'Tell him that we will be fine, no need to fret over noble sensibilities.'

When Mordred repeated it he seemed a bit huffy, Arthur biting his lip as he caught the muttered afterthought the boy had. "I'd like a bed to myself." This child was truly something else.

Lance seemed relieved at that, brandishing that same smile from before that made Arthur feel like he was looking at another man. He absently wondered if they would get along as he looked away, his face feeling warm. 'All right, Mordred, we need to start on that letter.'

Standing the blonde motioned for Leon to take the seat, the man settling down as Percy cleared away the board, picking up the charcoal and poising it over the parchment, waiting to start.

'King Rodor,' He started, Mordred repeating him immediately.

***

Despite the supposed safety of their position the night passed for Arthur as a sleepless one, Mordred crushed into his side purely of his own accord, the child an absolute hog when it came to space. He seemed to be trying to push Arthur right off the cot.

At least it gave him hours without the audience to his thoughts, Arthur letting himself wonder at whether he was interpreting things wrong when it came to Lancelot. It didn't feel as though the responses were simply friendly...

Perhaps he could move on with Lancelot in mind.

Rubbing at his eyes he sighed, staring up at the ceiling as Mordred practically headbutted his ribs for the sixth time that night.

The door creaked open for the tenth time (he'd been counting) and he was honestly surprised when it was Lancelot that appeared instead of some unknown guard as it had been the other nine times. Creeping over to the cot Arthur occupied the dark haired man knelt beside it, the exiled King propping himself up on his elbow, raising an eyebrow at the behavior.

"I've a response for you, sire." He murmured, the parchment proffered a second or two later. Arthur wasn't sure where his surprise originated from, the use of title or the expediency of Rodor's reply.

Taking the parchment he unrolled it carefully, squinting at it in the meager torchlight.

_Remain where you are._

_Departure of the guest will not take place until three weeks hence._

_Negotiations may adjourn quicker if Bayard arrives as planned._

The missive was unsurprisingly short and vague, as he'd expected it to be in relation to the situation, the feeling of relief it gave him crashing over him like a wave. He had worried that somehow things would be tainted by the risks, but it seemed that Rodor thought better to ally with him than to these unknowns.

"Good news then?" Lancelot asked softly, his smile soft and shy as he looked at Arthur. Damn his heart for beating out of whack.

He nodded some, rolling the parchment up before handing it back to the guard. Taking it the dark haired man murmured something about 'destroying it immediately' but Arthur couldn't muster the attention, admiring his profile before he turned back.

To Arthur's surprise when he turned back he went further, planting a kiss on his lips out of nowhere, only holding it for a few seconds before jerking back. They both stared at each other.

"Sire, my apologies, I don't know what I was thinking-" Lancelot made to leave, getting to his feet but not getting out of reach in time for him not to get his wrist grabbed by the true heir of Camelot. He looked back at Arthur with a rather terrified look on his face.

Arthur felt the urge to laugh. Instead he slid his hand down and gave the guard's hand a squeeze. It seemed to get the message through, Lancelot squeezing back.

They both let go then, the dark haired guard leaving and Arthur laying back to think about what had transpired.

He wondered if it would be enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It won't be, but that's okay Arthur :>


	26. Tryst

"Oh EW Arthur!!" Mordred practically shouted, Arthur immediately clapping a hand over his mouth and glaring at the boy.

'I told you that for your own good! So you wouldn't get surprised!'

"I didn't want to know!" The boy grunted, yanking his hand away. "Why can't grown people focus on anything else!?"

'I swear as soon as you leave boyhood I'm going to never let you hear the end of it, mite.' He shot back, hoping the growl he wanted added to that message translated. 'Things happen! And as long as you're able to be connected to me the more reason to get warnings about things that might come up!'

"I can't believe another person is dumb enough to want to do that to you."

'Another?'

"Oh don't play dumb! I hate when you do that!!" Mordred yowled, stomping his feet before turning and heading away. "I'm going to go see Percy! At least he's honest!!"

'Fine! Have fun being an arse elsewhere!'

The boy stuck his tongue out at him before going out the door, Leon stepping around him and shutting the door quietly, saving everyone from Mordred's eventual slamming of it. "You really allow him a great deal of leeway." He commented, smiling some as he walked over, opening his satchel and digging out some of the food he'd gone and gotten from the market.

Arthur rolled his eyes and shrugged, taking the initial apple offered and waiting for the other man to set out whatever else he'd gotten on the table between them. They ate in silence, Arthur shifting how he was sitting every now and again as he fought with himself, the situation with Lancelot more than appealing but something he wasn't sure if he should allow to take place. Would a dalliance like that be worthwhile?

Could it become something more?

Those thoughts seemed as far off as the retaking of Camelot, too nebulous and filled with different possibilities that he couldn't fathom them out.

"Has Morgana contacted you yet?" Leon asked, sounding somehow tentative yet curious. He wondered why that woman's name brought such trepidation to him... Could they really be siblings?

Setting the core aside he shook his head, sighing softly. He'd hoped furtively that she might, wanting some direction in the time they spent idle but she'd made no effort to reach out to them that he could find. Every bit of water he happened to pass had his attention as though she'd jump out at any moment.

"Perhaps it is tiring?" His fellow knight suggested, apparently picking up on his mild discomfort. "Mordred expressed to me not long ago that magic takes effort like anything else... So perhaps she overexerted herself and is working her strength back up."

Looking to the other man Arthur gave him a look that expressed a 'maybe' before looking away again, leaning his head on his hand as he stared off at the opposing wall. Shame there was no window, there at least he'd have more to look at while stuck here.

***

The dalliance with Lancelot ended up being a source of entertainment in the time he spent out of sight, the pair of them constructing a bizarre series of stolen moments that Arthur couldn't get enough of. He'd forgotten what it was like to be with another person that had open, reciprocal interest.

Chaste kisses became much deeper, tentative touches turned into bold grabs, the pair of them slipping out late into the night to find a discreet nook of the castle to get a feel for one another.

Despite it being a lovely pastime it still felt... hollow somehow.

"Is that good?" Lancelot asked breathlessly, his hand working presently over them both, the saliva from previous ministrations easing the slide of their pricks against each other. Arthur could still taste the bitter flavor of it, his mind wandering to a different someone through the haze of lust. He barely managed the nod, his hands gripping at the guard's bared behind like it was his lifeline. He was so close.

Bringing their mouths together again Lancelot quieted himself with the kiss, stroking faster as Arthur dug his fingertips in, the pair of them gasping as they came together.

He still couldn't get used to the pang of guilt that liked to follow these encounters, it souring the shudders of pleasure slightly with it's presence.

The guard pressed his lips to Arthur's bowed head, startlingly reverent at a time like this. "Thank you." He murmured, the blonde man only giving his ass a final squeeze in response before releasing him, the two hastily cleaning up and righting their clothes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) Can ya blame me?


	27. An Audience

Mercia's envoy arrived early as hoped, King Bayard sweeping into the castle with obvious opulence, his lords and ladies that had accompanied dressed in their best, the forces that had followed an obvious display as well.

It sent Morfydd running it seemed, the the witch obviously taking notice of the addition of warlocks to their ranks. Clearly Bayard was ahead of Rodor in defensive measures. That boded well for the slant his talks were bound to take, Arthur wondering if the Mercian King would even listen. Despite once holding peace between them it had been a tenuous one, the two Kings personalities far too different to tolerate the other for long.

His body felt heavy with anxiety, the man carding his hands repeatedly through his hair as he tried to quiet his nerves, leaving it an utter mess while they waited for the departure to finish up, the three of them hovering by a window that overlooked the courtyard.

When they left the witch mounted her horse but looked back and Arthur could swear she looked right at him.

"She didn't." Mordred whispered, holding onto his hand. "It's all in your head."

Maybe it was.

But now came the hard part.

"Arthur... The King will receive you in the throne room, now." Lancelot called out from the door, Arthur turning and catching the other man biting his bottom lip briefly, his trepidation showing. "Your audience... I'm sorry but it cannot be made private. King Bayard and his Queen would not be diverted."

Lovely.

Nodding curtly at that he righted his hair as best he could manage, sliding his hand from Mordred's grip and then straightening his hair to the best of his ability, the boy grimacing as he allowed it. Nodding slightly he patted him on the shoulder before looking to Leon, the bearded man nodding slightly in response. "Presentable as possible, sire."

Well then.

Heading forward he let Lance lead them out, the guard up front, Arthur in the middle, with Mordred and Leon flanking him on either side.

The waiting guards opened the doors, Lancelot not hesitating to go on ahead, standing aside as Arthur headed forward, head held high as he tried to remember all his courtly training, feeling awful and out of practice as they headed inside and stopped before the assembled thrones.

"So the rumors were true." Was the first thing said, no introduction given before Bayard spoke, the Mercian King looking him over with a neutral expression. "Despite upheaval here you stand, Prince Arthur..."

"King." His wife quietly corrected, Bayard only raising a brow slightly but saying nothing.

Arthur almost forgot himself, opening his mouth briefly before shaking his head slightly as he dispelled the bit of muscle memory, reaching out a hand and motioning for Mordred to stand beside him. 'Stand here, keep your eyes down, and repeat after me.'

To his relief Mordred did as he was told, stepping up beside him so close that they were nearly touching, his head bowed slightly in deference. "Thankfully my Knights came to my rescue before my head was taken off, though I did not escape unscathed."

Bayard looked like he wanted to laugh. Rodor not so much, his face surprisingly pale in response to the goings on. His daughter looked not much better.

"What is the meaning of this?" Nemeth's King questioned, gesturing toward Mordred.

"In a weak moment my usurpers cursed me to be unable to speak. I still bear this hex and have yet to find a cure. In the meantime I have found means to communicate." Gesturing to Mordred himself Arthur continued. "This is Mordred, a Druid boy from an encampment in Essetir."

'Bow.' Arthur instructed, the child doing so immediately and thankfully not repeating that part. Surprisingly the practice had paid off and he made no blunders, straightening back up and keeping his eyes to the floor.

"So magic suits you only out of convenience." Bayard stated, smirking even as his wife's eyebrows shot up, the woman somehow managing to exude her displeasure without showing it on her face.

"Bayard, please." Rodor murmured, rubbing a hand across his mouth as he glanced toward his daughter, the Princess looking back at him a moment before they faced forward again. "You wrote to me of a proposal, Pendragon, and I must assume you have aims to exact revenge, is that correct?"

"Those are not the words I would use to describe my plight." Arthur replied evenly, Mordred's tone matching perfectly. "My concern lies less with myself and more with my people. I am more than aware of how Rheged treats it's citizenry. I am certain their foray into King Slaying is not a flight of fancy... Nor a single instance."

The implications hung heavy, but none present seemed surprised.

"Rheged would invade your kingdoms as well, I am certain. As it stands they seem to be already making motions, as I have heard they have made a concerted effort to construct a front of diplomacy here in the name of carving up Gedref." Rodor nodded slightly in response to that, though Mithian's expression carried something else to it.

Perhaps it was more than Gedref that was of interest there.

"Either we take action against them now or you face them later on your own, as I see it. I intend to travel to Gawant and Caerleon in hopes they will agree that their removal is a reasonable cause while I muster the forces required for such action." He paused, looking directly at the Mercian King and Queen. "I had hopes to travel to Mercia as well... But perhaps there is time yet to be saved in your being here."

"You pose much." Rodor stated, letting his hand fall aside to the arm rest. "But... I am amicable to such talks. Gedref is not the only thing that was asked of us, and I wish to surrender neither."

Bayard, however, was not so forthcoming. "You are very brave to show your face when you have naught to back you."

Arthur grit his teeth, keeping his expression neutral as he replied. "If you think Mercia capable of ousting them be my guest. She might have fled from you here, but there... Well their armies are Spell Swords, born and bred. It is one thing to have both Knights and Warlocks... But entirely another to have one or the other go one on one with such men."

Clearly that gave Bayard something to think about, his expression showing some displeasure as he replied. "Perhaps there is something to you yet, Pendragon."

"In any case there are considerations to be made and things to be done." Rodor stated, gesturing for the chamberlain to come forward. "Please make use of our hospitality in the meantime."

"Thank you." Arthur nodded at that, directing Mordred to bow once again before turning to follow the chamberlain out, the man speaking quietly with Leon as the exiled prince felt fit to melt after how raw his nerves had become, happy to bid the bright limestone chamber goodbye for the moment.

He found Mordred suddenly glued to his side, the boy clinging to his hand as they walked down the hall. "That was awful."

'It was... At least it shows promise.'

"It better. You talked forever." Mordred grunted, Arthur smiling at the front the boy was putting on. He hadn't thought the boy could be so shy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is apparently what the throne room in Nemeth looks like if you were interested: http://vignette4.wikia.nocookie.net/merlin1/images/4/46/Odin_and_Morgana_in_Nemeth.png/revision/latest?cb=20121028021341


	28. Women

Despite the distance given Arthur found himself in the least entertained by Nemeth's royal family, Princess Mithian evidently deciding to forcibly involve herself in his time at court, Lancelot seeming somehow pleased by this development.

Mithian and Arthur had been acquainted with one another since they were small, and it did not bother him terribly to suffer her presence as he might with other courtly women he had known, but it did not comfort him either. They were not familiar enough for that.

"Would you tell me if I asked?" She questioned one afternoon, while the tailor measured Mordred meticulously, the child looking irritated at his constant adjusting and prodding. Arthur and Leon had already gone through the necessary fitting that had been offered, Mordred having taken several days coaxing to do the same, justifiably leery of doing something like that for the first time.

"What?" Mordred prompted ahead of Arthur actually responding, earning him a quick look from him but nothing further.

Mithian thankfully hadn't seemed to notice, continuing with her delicate embroidery that she'd been working on since she came in with the tailor in tow. "What it was like while you were in exile."

"There's not much to tell." Arthur replied, stretching his legs out and crossing them at the ankles, watching the progress on the measuring to make sure Mordred didn't act out. "I'm afraid it would not entertain you long."

"I would still be glad to hear it. I'm sure I won't be the last to ask such a thing."

Sighing softly he acquiesced, not wanting to draw things out when he had nothing to hide. "As luck had it I was found by a physician on the border of Essetir. From there he cared for what ailments he could, but given this hex he could not do as much for me as he had hoped... Even his master was unable to do anything for me and he is a Druid."

Mithian hummed at that, finally looking up from her needle and thread to regard him directly. "I have to say, Arthur, that I'm quite surprised at your present opinions... Clearly they have come far from when you were a prince... I would've thought they would've worsened with such an event, not bettered."

He nodded at that, discomfort rising at her scrutiny. "You're not wrong. I was not... Comfortable with the presence of magic when I was boarded in Essetir... But since it's presence did not wane I adapted." Pausing he looked to Mordred again, making sure he was behaving. "It helped to see it in different forms."

"I see." She hummed, smiling at him in a way that made him wonder. It was not the first time he wondered at a lady's designs, and it wouldn't be the last. Before all this even his father had thrown around the thought of asking Rodor for his daughter's hand for a stronger bond. A design that was thankfully subverted by other, more pressing matters. Arthur couldn't have imagined Mithian surviving the coup. They would've undoubtedly used her against him, and he could not imagine bearing the guilt of leaving her behind, in life or death.

"Finished." The tailor declared, gathering up his implements and grabbing up his fabrics, moving to offer them to Arthur. "Sire, if you would?"

Mordred hurried to Arthur's side, leaning on the armrest as they both looked at the colors provided, the blonde man inclining his head slightly as he looked them over. 'Green seems to be your color... But perhaps this is also fitting.' He commented, pulling both a deep green and a Pendragon red fabric from the selection, setting them on his knee so the child could see them better. 'Perhaps blue, as well...'

"You're sure I need so many clothes?" He asked, ignoring the irritated noise from the tailor and the quiet giggle from behind him.

'Yes, Mordred. If you're to be part of my court you'll have to have a proper wardrobe.' The boy huffed at the response, though somehow Arthur found he looked pleased while he palmed the fabric.

"Well... I do like both..." He seemed to squirm with indecision. "But maybe blue, too, like you said..."

Smiling at that he nodded, selecting a lighter blue from the samples and laying it out for him to check over, the boy shrugging at it. "Fine."

Rolling his eyes slightly he gathered the fabric and handed them back to the tailor, the man murmuring a "very good, sire" before draping them across his arm and leaving. 'There, that wasn't so bad, was it?'

"It was awful. I don't know why you put up with it." Mordred huffed, practically pouting as Mithian laughed again. Arthur just ruffled his hair. 'Oh go play some, you've earned the time to yourself.'

Mordred didn't need to be told twice, bolting for the door and out around Lancelot as he came in, the dark haired man smiling at them both. Arthur noted that at least Mithian looked as dazzled as he felt by the expression.

"Your highness your aunt, Queen Aelfwyn, requests your company in the gardens." He reported, standing at attention as he waited for her answer.

"Ah, yes well I shall join her, then." The Princess replied, standing and handing off her embroidery to her waiting hand maiden, turning and offering Arthur a smile. "Good day, your majesty." She curtsied to him and he could swear she only addressed him as such to make his discomfort grow again, her slight grin speaking volumes to back such a thought.

Faintly he figured that she and Morgana would be thick as thieves if they ever crossed paths.

Heaven forbid they ever do.

***

Unfortunately just thinking of Morgana seemed to bring her presence to him again, this time in the looking glass that had been part of his guest chambers, Arthur nearly yelping as he hastily covered himself, glaring at her image as he recovered.

The absolute harpy only smirked at him. "And how is my brother doing?"

Arthur rolled his eyes and shrugged, gesturing vaguely toward the bed where Mordred slept on, snoring disturbingly loud despite his small stature.

In a confusing response she rolled her eyes as well, rubbing her index finger against her temple. "Nevermind, you're still thick. I didn't just scry you to have a chat about the weather."

The expression he put on he hoped expressed how obvious he felt that point had been, the woman glaring at him a moment later and confirming his success. "If only I could hit you right now."

Arthur just smirked and gestured for her to get on with it, still hiding himself with the shirt he'd been holding during her ill-timed appearance.

"The state of things in Nemeth seem to be going as predicted, though the Mercian King's appearance is one that was not foreseen, nor was that... woman's presence." She grimaced slightly. "I am sorry, I was not able to warn you of that danger."

He shrugged, looking away for the moment. "In any case I have seen other things. When you reach Gawant you must seek out the remnants of your Knights. Many of them sought amnesty from your allied land but most chose to remain better hidden than just fleeing to Godwyn's castle."

There was a flood of relief for that knowledge, the thought of more of his men escaping the awful fallout of Camelot bringing warmth to his heart. Nodding finally he looked her in the eye again, the sorceress giving him a sincere smile for once. "Keep hope in your heart. I'll scry again soon."

And with that she was gone, Arthur letting out a sigh as he let the shirt fall away, heading toward the bath that had been waiting in the wings.

One step at a time.


	29. Unheard

Arthur was mercilessly questioned over the weeks that Bayard remained at court, the pair of them arguing for hours at a time each time, covering the same ground over and over, the older King clearly testing his consistency and ideals.

It reminded him uncomfortably of his father in a way, and he spent a few days contemplating if he was really going to do right by his memory with his future plans.

He found that after the year in exile he couldn't muster the guilt to examine that thought further, becoming more caught up in memories of his youth, both good and bad. The unsettling scent of burned flesh coming readily to mind when he lingered too much.

Eventually Bayard seemed convinced; he, Rodor, and Arthur spending the time necessary to coordinate themselves for the months ahead, concessions and agreements for when Arthur was once again in control sketched out and finalized before things adjourned so there would be no question of what was at stake and what incentives there were aside from the dethroning of two threats.

Mordred thankfully found squires to befriend at court, the other boys keeping him busy in the hours that Arthur had no need of him. It left Arthur with more privacy to plan and mull over various things for his future, discovering to his surprise that the hex had no effect over him drawing, his attempt to draw out a map resulting in great elation.

Perhaps this wasn't going to be as hard as he'd thought.

***

It took five days to reach Gawant, the Summer rolling in just behind it seemed when they arrived, Percival and Lancelot being appointed to accompany them as Rodor's representatives, a good faith gesture Arthur was certain.

"Are you sure you only wish us to accompany you to court?" Leon asked for the second time that day, Arthur giving him a quick look and then a nod.

They'd discussed their strategy for the recovery of the scattered knights, Morgana scrying again just before their departure with perfunctory directions that they might follow to find the men that remained. She seemed confident that despite the vagueness they would lead them where they needed to be, aggravating Arthur to no end with her mysticism.

He was beginning to think that Morgana had been pulling his leg when she'd said Leon was her brother.

Their reception at court was one of warmth that Arthur had nearly forgotten, King Godwyn as close as he could call family with the De Bois side so estranged, the man in question actually embracing him when they met in his throne room. It was completely unexpected.

He wonders in the middle of everything if his remaining Uncle is still alive. Had he run from Camelot? Would they have bothered to run him down?

And like that the thought is gone again, his mind turning to conversation and introductions, Mordred stepping up and being his voice even before he can parse what needs to be said. He's becoming more useful by the day, and Arthur has wondered in quiet moments while the child is asleep whether he'll only have him on as a squire.

Arthur thought that things would be easier in Gawant. Truly he thought perhaps there'd be some kind of respite from stresses while they looked for their scattered comrades...

But there seemed to be a problem, or at least a problem according to Mordred.

"There's something wrong with her, Arthur!" He declared loudly, gesturing toward the door as though that explained his point fully. "I can't hear her! Not at all!"

'You're sure that's not a good sign?' The blonde posed, slouching slightly in his chair and rubbing at his temple. His stomach was full and the room was warm, drowsiness taking hold much quicker than usual. 'Perhaps she's got powerful magic.'

"That can't be, because even powerful people like Mer- _MOR_ gana couldn't keep me out, and she's one of the most powerful known!" The boy was practically bouncing with nervous energy. "There's something wrong with her! Her nurse is weird too!"

'Grunhilda has always been like that.' He sighed, rubbing at his eyes. 'I met her before... They came to attempt to arrange my marriage to Elena ages ago, but we had a string of magical beast problems so talks were put off. The woman is just odd.'

"Even so then there's still something wrong with the King's daughter!" The boy groaned, pulling on his face briefly out of frustration. "No one can keep me out, sometimes I can't even keep from hearing people, Arthur! There's something fishy going on!"

'Fine, fine... Say there is. What on Earth would either of us be able to do about it?' He rolled his eyes a bit, sitting up straighter and miming along with his response. 'Ah yes, Godwyn, by the way, your daughter happens to be so mentally guarded that my mite of a translator can't hear her.'

Mordred actually put his face in his own hands, breathing deeply. "You are so _very_ lucky that I am _such_ an amazing sorcerer otherwise your boot tips would be on fire right now."

'Look, Mordred, without any evidence aside from your mental misgivings we can't bring it up, it'll be offensive, not to mention it'll sound absolutely foolish. Keep an eye on her if you want, ask around even, but don't be obvious about it until you have something more substantial than a mental block.'

"FINE. Fine. I'll figure this out on my own, you just sit back and be absolutely useless." The boy huffed, going and throwing himself on the bed. "It's always up to me."

Arthur just snorted loudly at that, suppressing the laughter that was entirely warranted. Mordred was just too amusing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It only just occurred to me while writing this that there was the problem of Elena's Sidhe possessor to still be solved so... Looks like Mordred is on the case!


	30. Fae Magic

"Grunhilda's doing magic on the princess!" Mordred crowed, bouncing on the end of Arthur's bed in the meager dawnlight, Eos not having quite crept far up enough to disrupt the heavy shadows in the room, leaving Arthur squinting blearily at his charge's silhouette.

'What're you doing up?'

"ARTHUR!" The boy cried, exasperated as he crawled up the bed, actually climbing onto the blonde and bouncing on his stomach excitedly, making Arthur actually let out a sound. The pain seared his throat and twisted his stomach, the child quickly recoiling. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, I didn't mean-"

'Don't. Do that again.' Arthur warned, sleep still clinging hard to his mind, giving him less opportunity to soften his tone. Mordred ducked his head, looking fit to cry. Dammit.

"I'm sorry, Arthur, I didn't think." He murmured, sounding close to tears as well. The King sighed, the sound sort of wheeze-like in the wake of the pain, the man reaching up and squeezing his shoulder. 'It's fine.'

Rubbing at his eyes he sat up better, the boy scurrying off of him and kneeling instead at his side, his shamefaced expression not waning any. 'So what was this about Grunhilda? And why would you have that thought?'

"I... I was trying to find out what was wrong with the Princess, like I said I would." He replied, fidgeting with his sleeves. "I got up and snuck into her chambers a few hours ago, I wanted to catch her morning routine. Women in our camp often used magic on themselves in the morning... I thought... I thought maybe she was doing something like that."

'You shouldn't go into a lady's chambers.' Was all his mind could come up with at first, the blonde working hard to shake the sleep away. 'So what was it you saw?'

"Princess Elena... She was having a night terror. Thrashing and whimpering... But I felt a magic flare in her. I thought maybe..." The fidgeting increased, the boy looking away toward where the fire burned low in the hearth. "I thought she was like Morgana. A seer but more powerful... But... Her nurse... She came and sprinkled her with powder."

'...and that means?'

"Grunhilda's doing something awful to her." Mordred supplied, frowning as he looked back to Arthur again. "It made her blue faced."

Grimacing he rubbed at his eyes again. 'I suppose we shall report this information to Godwyn... But he will be likely hard to convince. Grunhilda has been of his household since Elena's mother passed, and both he and Elena have an obvious fondness for her.'

"...maybe... Maybe we should expose her?" He questioned, fidgeting again as his gaze wandered again. "That way we don't have to push so hard?"

'Both would be prudent, but the latter I haven't a clue how to do. Do you know what sort of sorcery she's using on the Princess?'

"No... I don't..." The boy looked surprisingly nervous. "I don't think she's a human? It'd make sense of why she's weird and..." He paused, brows drawing together. "I didn't hear her either... But I didn't notice." The realization seemed to unnerve the child.

'Well. Doing magic on Elena and a potential magical creature to boot. You've done some true sleuthing, Mordred.' Pulling the bed clothes aside he slid from the bed, padding toward the fire to stir it back to life. 'You'll have to leave the next part to me.'

***

Incidentally Godwyn didn't take the news well.

"Grunhilda has been the pinnacle of loyalty to our household, more than once keeping my Elena in good health and from exterior harm. Her devotion has spoke volumes... And you want me to dismiss her? Clap her in irons and have her interrogated after everything?" Evidently the attachment to Elena's nurse did not just run deep in Elena.

Arthur had forgotten the loyalty that Godwyn had extended to Uther was not an exclusive tendency, and that it was his best (and right now worst) quality.

"I understand your misgivings, King Godwyn, but I do not bring you this accusation lightly, I fear only for the well being of your heir." The delivery via Mordred's mouth seemed to agitate him, but Godwyn plowed onward, Arthur thanking all of his stars that the loyalty to his family might outweigh Godwyn's feelings toward Elena's nurse.

"Fine. We shall have Grunhilda brought here and have her answer these accusations this minute." Godwyn grunted, throwing out a hand toward his guards at the door. "Bring me Grunhilda, make sure there are no evasions and keep Elena in her quarters. She is not to accompany the woman."

The guards nodded and left, the awkward tension in the room building till they returned, leaving Arthur's nerves prickling unpleasantly.

"Grunhilda you are accused of enscorelling Princess Elena." Godwyn boomed, shocking Arthur internally at the power that went with that tone. More often than not it was easy to forget that Godwyn was once a warrior as well. "What do you say to these claims?"

The woman sputtered, looking aghast though interestingly not terribly phased through her eyes, waving her hands as she moved to reply. "My liege! How could you presume I would do such a thing! I love the Princess dearly! I would never harm her!"

"Then why did you use magic on her?" Mordred suddenly shouted, going red faced. "Why're you unhearable!?"

'Mordred! Be silent!'

"My lord how can you let this boy speak to me like this!?" The woman wailed, bringing her hands up to cover her face, shoulders shuddering and tone trembling as though she was on the verge of tears. "I only wish to serve my lady!!"

"I can hear everyone!!" Mordred shouted, stomping his foot. "I am the most powerful warlock of my generation and you are beyond my reach! You are not of this place! Admit your guilt!"

Godwyn roared something unintelligible as Arthur effectively went deaf to the other sounds in the room, the blonde moving to seize the child to quiet him, the woman's wails growing from what he could tell.

'You must be silent!!' Arthur practically shouted at him silently, grabbing him by the shoulders as suddenly the sound came crashing back in on him, the strangest thing assaulting his ears.

"The King must've done something untoward to the Princess to be accusing me of such things! Assaulted her even! She's been so flighty and upset these past few days, your highness, you must make him pay his due!"

The words were coming simply from nowhere, Arthur whipping his head around to see the woman (dry eyes, unbecoming smirk) pointing his way and to his horror the answer from Godwyn was not a reprimand but a low growl.

"She's enscorelling him right now!" Mordred shrieked, suddenly sounding terrified despite his thrashing. "Do something!!"

Hand immediately jumping to his waist he found that he lacked any weaponry, Arthur grimacing and shoving the child behind him as he looked at the woman with a mounting sense of dread. She grinned toothily back, eyebrows raising and tongue flashing out to wet her lips.

It... was long. Disturbingly long.

"Oh my King, he's truly been a _naughty_ boy. Force him to take her hand. Make her an honest woman again." She crooned, Godwyn rising slowly and grabbing at the hilt of his sword, pupils wide and unseeing as he moved forward.

"Arthur!" Mordred cried, ducking between his legs and throwing his hands up just as the guard joined the advance on the pair of them, a powerful gust of wind thrusting the lot of them backward onto their asses, leaving only the woman standing, eyes alight with something ominous.

"All we needed was a Prince, but really, a King will do. After all, then all there is is a _funeral_ to handle." She lilted dangerously, skin darkening to an unhealthy flush as black spots sprang out all over her face, her nose and ears lengthening, showing her true form in what she presumed her moment of glory.

"Lyft sy þe in bǽlwylm ac forhienan se wiðere!" The child shouted just as Arthur grabbed him up around the middle, the spell causing a cacophony as both air and fire were brought forth from nothing, turning into a swirling vortex of flame as it curled around the creature, the woman shrieking and trying to flee from the encircling attack, Arthur turning his face away as she began to melt before the pair of them, one hand hastily covering Mordred's eyes.

The shrieking rang and rang longer than the fire itself lasted, nothing left behind aside from a scorch mark when they chanced a look back.

'That was...' Arthur couldn't quite find the words. This child had just destroyed a magical creature in a single shot. 'Impressive.'

"...I just wanted her gone." Mordred mumbled, sounding sick. The guard and Godwyn began to rouse from their places on the floor, the five of them sitting up one after the other.

"What happened?" Godwyn asked, sounding baffled yet terse.

"...you nearly were taken in fully by some kind of... magical creature." The pair supplied, Arthur finally letting Mordred down. "We took care of her... Though I'm unsure if this will clear your daughter of danger."

"...well..." Godwyn started awkwardly, getting up and going to practically flop into his throne. "That's... Good. I appreciate the assistance greatly."

"... our pleasure." Arthur replied, straightening his own clothes and then Mordred's unthinkingly. "We'll speak later on the matter, for now I will see if I can get in contact with someone older who deals in magic. Perhaps they will know what sort of... thing that was."

"Good, good..." Was all he got from Godwyn, the man looking frazzled and in need of some time to think. Arthur could relate to that quite well, feeling like he was going to need a break before they attempted any contact on the matter.

'Come, Mordred. Let us get some lunch...'


	31. The Sorceress

Their lunch was a quiet one, Arthur not bothering to question Mordred when he instead of sitting in his own chair climbed into his lap to eat, the boy munching on some fruit as the King let his thoughts wander. He was not particularly interested in eating for the time being, letting the boy have whatever he wanted off the platter as he mulled over the last few hours and how close they'd been to utter disaster.

'You need to be trained... We'll need to seek out a tutor for you as soon as possible.' Mordred's shoulders stiffened, the boy seeming to exude his displeasure without having to do much.

"I've already been trained."

'But not fully; no where near enough. You need control, just as knights do. You cannot simply learn and then not hone your craft.' Arthur replied, rubbing a hand over his mouth as he gazed up at the ceiling. 'Today was a close call... I want you to be confident in a moment of danger, not consumed by panic. Panic causes mistakes and injury, neither which we need.'

The child didn't seem thrilled with the thought, his shoulders relaxing and then sagging slightly. Sighing softly Arthur reached up and petted the top of his head. 'You did well, Mordred. Take pride in that... You saved a whole kingdom today.'

"... I did, didn't I." He stated after a moment or two, Arthur smiling a bit at the tinge of pride that was there.

'You did.'

***

At midday the following day Arthur was summoned to the courtyard and enjoyed a reunion with no less than ten of his men, the group of them laughing and seizing him in rough hugs as he grinned from ear to ear, pounding them amicably on the back in turn as they embraced. It did his heart good to see so many of them still alive and well and it seemed to have the same effect on Leon, the two of them leading the group inside. 

The ginger haired knight gave him the points of what had gone on in his travels, the others piping up when it concerned them, the older man breaking off with them to take them to the accommodations that Godwyn had afforded them, leaving Arthur to go back to his chambers with a bounce to his step.

When he walked into his chambers however he didn't initially notice what was going on, striding into the room paying little mind to the voices within, sighting Mordred and then running smack into an end table when he sighted Merlin, the blonde scrambling to grab the piece of furniture before it could tip over.

The boy was scrying using the large mirror Morgana had contacted him with before, the woman coming into view a second later, shouldering the surprised looking physician out of the way as she made to speak to her brother again, the sorceress taking notice of him a second later. "Good afternoon, Arthur."

He nodded awkwardly to her, letting go of the table and stepping away, dusting off the front of his pants absently as his gaze wandered to the figure he could see trying to busy himself in the background, that awful feeling of longing stabbing him in the gut.

"Arthur." Mordred called out, the King's gaze snapping to him instantly, finding his expression speaking the rest of what he wanted to say: stop, focus, listen. "Morgana thinks that she and Gaius have come up with something to cure the Princess."

'Is that so? Killing that fair folk wasn't enough?'

The boy shook his head. "I heard from her handmaidens that she shrieked now like a banshee all night, and her skin is starting to take on a blue tinge... Gaius thinks that she might be carrying a Changling."

Arthur's brow furrowed as he drew nearer, glancing toward Morgana before posing further questions. 'A Changling?'

"It's like..." He looked unsure how to explain, looking to Morgana for help after a moment, the woman only nodding a bit, halting the stirring she'd been doing in the clay bowl she was holding against her stomach.

"A Changling is like a parasitic Sidhe child that lives in a human till the conditions of it's presence are met, then it takes over it's host entirely. Sometimes they don't even bother with implanting them, just leaving them in place of infants so they can enslave human children." She frowned deeply, staring down into her mixture as she started to stir it again, the motion becoming aggressive. "The cases with nobility that have been recorded have always been of the implanted nature... Easier to create puppets within human courts so they can do whatever they like."

"It would explain why Grunhilda was pushing for Godwyn to make you marry her." Mordred piped up, looking a bit proud of himself, it seeming he'd been the one to make this conclusion. "Becoming a Queen must be the condition that would make the Changling take over the Princess."

Arthur pursed his lips, forcing himself to keep his gaze on the boy and not allow it to wander. 'So what's to be done?'

"Morgana is working on a potion to destroy the fairy inside her. With her magic imbuing it it should be powerful enough to completely rid the Princess of any lingering effects as well." The child's wording seemed purposeful somehow, his gaze flicking away however briefly as he spoke, making Arthur question if he was being completely honest about the effects.

Brow furrowing he allowed himself to turn from Mordred, raising an eyebrow at the woman in the mirror. 'And how do you expect to get such a thing here?'

"She's coming here." The boy replied, tone making it sound like it was obvious.

'On her own?' Arthur asked incredulously, Morgana seeming to read his expression, making a face at him in return. "Teleportation means a chaperone is unnecessary, Wart. Don't worry your pretty little head."

He decided to not inquire further, rubbing a hand over his eyes as Mordred broke in and started chatting with Morgana about some magical mumbo-jumbo, Arthur chancing a peek at the mirror while they were busy, hoping for a glimpse of Merlin.

To his disappointment he found the dark haired man gone, his shoulders drooping a bit as he turned away, heading toward the wardrobe to paw idly through it, looking for something to pull out and force Mordred to wear to the formal evening meal that Godwyn was holding to welcome the gaggle of knights.

***

Morgana arrived with a bang.

A literal, ground shaking bang.

Arthur was certain that he nearly choked on his heart with the sound.

At least everyone involved seemed as startled as he was, including Morgana, though others may have not known it to look at her who were less familiar. Her eyes shone with a kind of relief from arriving safely, the sorceress recovering quickly and stepping out of the ring that had scorched the flagstones around her feet.

Stepping forward the blonde offered his hand to her, the woman surprising him with a curtsey that was done with such poise she would've put all the noblewomen he'd met to shame. Smiling at her when she raised her head she seemed encouraged by that, taking his hand and allowing him to lead her forward, the King smoothly guiding her to hold onto his arm as he escorted her up the steps, Mordred a few steps behind.

When the doors to the throne room opened the three of them entered only to be met by a quiet gasp, Godwyn looking at Morgana with something like grief on his face, making Arthur hesitate in his introduction. "King Godwyn?"

The man shook his head a little, passing a hand over his eyes as he composed himself, sitting up straighter in his seat before looking at them again, motioning vaguely for Arthur to continue. The blonde King frowned a tiny bit, plowing forward regardless, Mordred's voice continuing on with him. "I present the sorceress Morgana of Essetir. She's come to rid your daughter of her lingering ailments."

"Essetir... No wonder." Godwyn murmured, puzzling Arthur further, the older man making no effort to contextualize his musings. "Very well then, you may treat her as you see fit. I trust in you both completely."

Truly Arthur was getting tired of all the mysteries in his life. Nodding to that he urged Morgana to turn, the woman curtseying to Godwyn carefully before the three exited. 'What was that about?'

Arthur asked, shooting Mordred a look once he fell into step with the pair of them. The boy just shrugged, evidently just as out of the loop as he was.

Morgana's expression betrayed nothing of her knowing either, though the tense way she held herself seemed in-congruent with that thought, Arthur filing that away for later to try and pry whatever it was out of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eventually someone has to spill the beans, it's just a question of who is gonna do it first.


	32. Family

The next few nights held a strange tension that Arthur couldn't quite parse the source of. Everything seemed strange despite all wrongs seemingly having been righted.

Morgana's potion destroyed the fae parasite and freed the Princess from it's influence, the pair becoming thick as thieves not long after, Elena left wanting for a confidant with the void left by her pixie nursemaid. The strangest part was how Morgana seemed perfectly at home in the court, wearing borrowed silks and loaned gems, drinking wine and eating at nightly meals with poise that no peasant or Druid he'd ever met had a mastery of.

Part of him wanted to get after Mordred whether he knew how it was that his adoptive sister behaved the part of a courtier when not a few days ago she was living in tents and foraging for her evening meal. Common sense told him the boy would not know. Those skills were too practiced.

So instead he invited the source of his questions to dine with them privately, Arthur far too fed up to play this guessing game any longer.

"How is it, Morgana, that you know court etiquette so well?" He asked, pressing his cup to his lips as Mordred picked at his food beside him, the woman across from them pausing in her cutting of her own to look up at him.

"I had hoped you had worked that out for yourself already, Arthur." The sorceress sighed, leaning her elbow on the edge of the table and resting her chin on her hand, staring at him as Mordred continued to fidget.

"You spoke little about your own history when we were getting acquainted so you're clearly putting far too much faith in my deductive reasoning." He sighed, the echo of his tones entirely too well replicated by the boy beside him. "Shall I venture a guess that Gaius schooled you in such things? Him being the former court physician?"

Morgana actually laughed at that, rolling her eyes as she covered her mouth, taming the laughter into a giggle and then into merely an amused tone of voice. "Oh goodness... You really haven't a single clue... I would've thought he'd had said _something_ with how he acted after he met you again... Or at least Leon... But apparently no one wants to do the job."

That irked him to no end. He knew it! Everyone had been keeping him out of the loop! "Tell me, then. What is it that everyone has been keeping from me?"

Taking what he supposed was a fortifying breath the woman rubbed a hand over her mouth delicately, sitting back in her chair as she let her arms rest against the fine polished wood on either side of her. "Do you remember being a boy and having a playmate? Not Leon, but someone more your size?"

Arthur's brow furrowed as he leaned forward, squinting at her as he tried to recall anything like that. It felt familiar in theory less than it being something he really remembered. Someone who would bash toy swords together with him full force, not like Leon who didn't hit as hard as he knew he could. "...perhaps. Are you trying to tell me that we knew each other?"

"Yes, you daft man." She huffed, drumming her fingertips on the armrest. "And then-some. More than I knew at the time... But to start I was a ward of your household. Uther took me in when my mother passed on."

This seemed familiar, like a story he'd once heard in passing.

Morgana seemed anxious, looking away from him and squirming ever so slightly beneath his scrutiny. He tried to relax but there wasn't much to be done, the tenseness that had grown in his muscles not easy to be rid of. "One night I had a bad dream and lit my bed curtains on fire. The maid that attended me had been in the room and saw them light because of me and told my- she told Gaius."

"Evidently he'd been able to get sorcerers out of Camelot in secret... But whoever had been helping him had been killed, so when it came to me..." Finally she had courage to look Arthur in the eye again. "He decided to take me away himself... despite knowing just who I really belonged to."

Suddenly Mordred dropped his cutlery, staring bug eyed over the tabletop at his sister. She shot him a warning look, the blonde looking quickly between the two and giving her a questioning one for her trouble.

"Uther didn't take me as a ward because he felt it his duty... but because he was my father." Arthur vaguely took notice of how white her knuckles were as she dug her fingertips in against the side of the armrest, her nerves getting the better of her. He supposed they should, given what the gravity of such a claim meant and directed at the current King of Camelot no less.

"...and Gaius thought he'd burn you, so he took you away."

Morgana's tension seemed to ebb just slightly at his conclusion, nodding slightly to that as he looked her in the eyes again. "I wasn't sure I wanted to tell you... Your life was difficult already, and a bastard elder sister didn't seem like something you'd want added to the equation... But..." She waved her hands helplessly, gesturing around them. "It seems my destiny to be involved, regardless of what I think."

Truly he didn't know what to think. He didn't know what it meant to have more than a father for family. What did it mean to be a brother to someone? What could a sister provide his life with? There was far too much there to speculate on, a rush of anxiety assaulting him as he drained his cup of the last of it's wine. "Regardless of relation I've had need of your help. Destiny or happenstance, it matters not."

For whatever reason the sorceress laughed. "I'm... glad you put so little faith into this." She smiled softly at him, halting his objections before they were fully formed as she absently rubbed her fingers over her temple. "Truly... To be unburdened by the thought of having no choice in the matter is... Refreshing. Sometimes it feels like such things are crushing me."

"... It was nothing." He murmured, feeling Mordred looking curiously between the two of them more than actually seeing it. "Truly Morgana I'm... I'm glad you're here. And I'm glad you told me."

Morgana smiled at him like she never had before, the realization of that alone making his heart hurt, the ache worsening when it finally hit him how scared she'd been.

"You look nothing alike." Mordred commented after the silence had dragged on too long, sticking a forkful of food in his mouth as he pointedly looked between them. "But you're both sure annoying."

"Mordred!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be another chapter coming soon hopefully, I think now that this reveal is done things might go a bit faster for me.


	33. Strength

They started training at Summer's height, Arthur and his men getting back into shape and becoming reacquainted with the daily dance that was their knight's regimen, Mordred slowly learning what it meant to squire for him. Thankfully he was a quick study, and Arthur rarely had to correct the boy on how to care for the equipment he handled.

In the midst of that the boy seemed to have gone through a growth spurt, Arthur having to call for the tailor much sooner than he would've thought was necessary, having Mordred fitted for new breeches twice before their stay in Gawant was nearly at a close.

Their plans were to move on to Caerleon were sent on ahead to the capital discreetly, waiting till there was a reply before making their plans to move on. Thankfully King Vortimer and Queen Annis were not opposed to Arthur coming to treat with them despite the tensions between their households in years past. Clearly everyone was taking the King slaying to heart.

Autumn was threatening to show it's first vestiges of true cold by the time they ventured into Caerleon, Morgana leading the lot of them through the countryside by whatever witchcraft allowed her to see so far, the woman shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly at Arthur when she merely offered: "I can see the path ahead."

Even Mordred seemed impressed, though it seemed that their time together since her parentage had come to light had improved their original tenuous relationship, developing into something more akin to master and student. Though it was not only Mordred he had caught her tutoring, but Leon and Percival as well. She seemed intent on working her way through the ranks to teach each of his knights at least a touch of magic.

Arthur found himself wanting to ask for the same, but he couldn't bring himself to admit such a thing, for however improved his opinion of magic had become he still held some ingrained fear of it, if however small. Perhaps someday someone could.

When they got to the keep their reception was delayed, the court in a tizzy over the Queen going into labor, leaving them largely to their own devices for the day, Arthur feeling as though he was walking on pins and needles being in this little visited place with such a personal event going on.

"Babies wait for no one." Morgana laughed when he confided that fact, Mordred grumbling something about "babies also being rubbish" under his breath, Arthur giving him a bewildered look as he unfastened his cloak.

"That being said... This is convenient, it leaves us time to go in search of another ally that I foresaw... Though there's only a few ideas I have on where we might run into him." The sorceress hummed, pouring out water into Arthur's basin and waving her hand over it, muttering some incantation under her breath.

"Can't Leon get them?" Mordred asked before Arthur could prompt him to say anything of his own, the boy leaning on the table and looking bored.

Morgana merely shook her head, not questioning which of them had really posed the question. "This task must fall to Arthur... Though perhaps it would be helpful if Lancelot accompanied us."

***

Lancelot did come in handy to a point, though Arthur highly doubted that when Morgana had suggested that she meant in a bar wide brawl.

The man that had plopped down uninvited at their table with ale in each hand turned out to be a trouble magnet, scruffy haired bother getting the two immediately into the middle of a fight that not one of them had prompted, the men scrambling from the building just in time to duck out of the way of a sudden blast of wind that came from Morgana herself, their pursuers knocked unceremoniously onto their asses. They weren't so keen on pursuing after that, scrambling up and heading back the way they came.

"Well that was a lively bit of entertainment." The man panted, grinning from ear to ear despite the split lip that was currently dribbling blood down his chin. "Sorry about that, you lads didn't even get to finish your drinks."

"I noticed you managed anyway." Lancelot commented, chuckling as Arthur cringed over that, the image of the brunette chugging his ale as he fended off one of the men with a chair burned into his mind's eye.

"Can't let good ale and coin go to waste over a little misunderstanding." The brunette declared, earning a small laugh out of Morgana at his antics, Mordred eyeballing him openly with suspicion.

"You can't be serious. It's not him, right?" The boy complained, nudging the sorceress as she drew her hand away from her mouth.

"I'm afraid so."

"Afraid what? Of me?" The man asked, winking at the pair of them. "I am the least threatening man to walk this earth!"

Lancelot and Arthur shared a look. What an absolute lie.

"Oh, that's a shame... I would've offered you work. Or... Rather I suppose my brother would." She commented, smiling at him blithely. The man's brow furrowed, directing his gaze down at Mordred.

"... I don't think he has the means to hire me."

"She's talking about him." Mordred grunted, pointing at Arthur.

The man just fixed Arthur with a bewildered look.

Arthur just slapped a hand over his eyes, tipping his head up and resisting the urge to groan in frustration. 'This is ridiculous.'

"Well yeah, he's obviously got hay for brains." The child huffed, earning a smack on the back of the head from Morgana.

"Now... Gwaine, was it?" Morgana prompted, drawing the man's attention back to her immediately with that. "We'd like to speak to you in private if you don't mind."

Gwaine looked hardly pleased, his words affecting a growl-like quality. "...who told you my name?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was wrong about getting the next chapter out fast but there's some good things in the future that came from the brief delay, just keep an eye out!


	34. The Lion's Roar

Morgana's surprise was evident around her eyes at the whip crack of a response, the man's hostility alone at the knowledge of his name making them collectively feel wrong footed, Mordred having the beginnings of worry building on his face despite his prior demeanor toward the scruffy man.

"I saw you in my dreams." The sorceress replied, smiling at him blithely as she stepped forward, tucking Mordred behind her as she made to close the gap somewhat between she and the roguish swordsman. It was here her rust showed, her surprise throwing off her lady's airs and making her attempt to smooth the ruffled feathers fall short.

Gwaine clearly wasn't taken in by her, casting a wary glance over her person as she opened her palms in a gesture that implied she had nothing to hide. "I'm a Seer. I foresaw your appearance and know you will be someone invaluable to our future dealings. Please, allow us to take this somewhere else..."

The man laughed disbelievingly, the sound making Morgana grimace lightly. "...it's not a joke."

"It must be." The dark haired man replied, smiling broadly and taking a step back, the look in Gwaine's eyes making Arthur interested in putting himself between them. This meeting was going down hill quite fast.

"A lady of your personage is the _last_ I would be interested in assisting." He bit out, mocking a her with an exaggerated bow. "If you'll excuse me."

With that he took one step back more before turning on heel and leaving, offering no further explanation or glance back with Morgana's final plea, disappearing down an alleyway.

"That could've gone better." Lancelot commented pointlessly, rubbing at his eyes.

Arthur grimaced, Morgana whipping around and giving the knight a scathing look, the woman turning on heel and stalking back toward the citadel. "An oversight. Clearly I should've dressed down today. We'll catch him elsewhere."

***

When they returned Arthur found an invitation from King Vortimer waiting for them, the man not wanting to neglect them in light of current events. Hastily Arthur, Morgana, and Mordred made their way to the royal chambers, finding the older King already in his cups, the bearded man waving them in with a broad smile.

"Come, come, drink to the strength of my Queen." He urged, the servants pouring out wine for them as Vortimer toasted, Morgana following Arthur's example quite clearly as the King looked eagerly on. "There we are... Now, I might finally welcome you."

Standing (albeit clearly wobbly) the King rounded the table, taking Arthur by the shoulders once he stood and looking him over, the blonde man utterly startled by the handling and by the stifled laughter that came from the direction his sister was it likely showed.

"You don't look a man damaged, Pendragon." He rumbled, still smiling in a manner which utterly unnerved Arthur. "What's this I've been hearing about your injuries?"

"They're largely magically inflicted." Mordred piped up, already filling Arthur's gap. Thankfully his stunned silence didn't last, fobbing Mordred more direction. "I'm unable to speak because of a hex my usurpers set upon me before I was forced from Camelot."

Gaze darting between Arthur and Mordred Vortimer seemed somehow... Pleased. "Ah, well isn't that grand. Such a solution to that snag."

Finally the large man peeled his grip off of Arthur, skirting the table edge to grab up his refilled cup, the blonde man smoothing his tunic as he followed the movement. "Thankfully they've yet to try and pass this way for a visit. Likely have my father's reputation to thank for that."

Arthur remembered little of what he'd heard of King Vortigern, the amount of contact that his father had allowed with the old King as minimal as possible. Arthur was around six or so when he'd been forcibly dethroned by the man sitting opposite of his companions. Having never seen Vortimer till this day it was hard to reconcile his demeanor with someone with a taste for patricide.

"Not your own?" He questioned finally, sliding back into his seat and inclining his head slightly.

Vortimer laughed loudly. "Certainly not. I have made so little noise since his days. They likely think we were of the same make and don't feel like crossing swords with living ice."

Mordred looked bewildered by that wording, looking to Arthur for help. Arthur simply shrugged. 'Unfeeling, perhaps?'

"I have not been to court since I was very small," Morgana started, looking almost shy as she worked her way forward. "I have heard little where I have lived since. Was he truly as cruel as that?"

Strangely the King looked almost fond. "Oh, yes... Quite so. He cared little for anyone and was obsessed with monument making and posturing to the ruin of us all. He nearly drained our resources to dust before..."

He shrugged his shoulders, smile changing into something tired. "He was mad toward the end, like a snake biting itself."

The somber tone was broken after a beat or two, the waiting servant at the King's elbow refilling his goblet yet again. "Tell me what you have been up to in my absence. Did you find the city to your liking?"

"We did." Arthur answered, noting Vortimer's grin over hearing Mordred. "We went to seek a man my sister had seen in a vision but could not manage to acquire his assistance."

"A man of import in Caerleon that is not part of my court? Do tell." Vortimer hummed, leaning forward with interest.

"He is a swordsman, sire, a man that will surely become one of my brother's most loyal if only we can hire him." Morgana provided carefully, setting her goblet aside.

"Was his name revealed or am I to only have these few, tantalizing details?" The older King joked, raising his eyebrows.

Morgana smiled politely at him. "His name is Gwaine... I believe his family name is Rhillew?"

Vortimer's expression immediately turned to shock, pausing with his goblet tipped toward his lips. "...you're certain?"

"Sire?" Morgana questioned, looking baffled by the response. "You know of him?"

"...perhaps." The goblet went aside, the King straightening. "If he is a Rhillew then you are after the son of my father's best Knight."

"But he had the airs of a common man." Arthur interjected, brow furrowing. "Surely-"

"My father was not a kind man," Vortimer reminded gently, cutting them off before they could press further. "And in his late years was at his worst... When Sir Yvain fell in battle he would not support his widow. He did the same to many."

"So... It seems Gwaine would have reason to hold some sort of grudge." His sister surmised, frowning deeply as Arthur looked at her. "I had thought... Oh Arthur, we may have lost the possibility of his favor utterly."

"I had hoped Yvain's widow had family she had fallen back to." Vortimer sighed, rubbing at his eyes.

"It's in the past. Don't dwell." Arthur advised, catching himself off guard with the sudden impulse to reassure the other man. "I imagine there was much to do when you became King... I can't imagine the mess that I will be returning to at the end of this venture."

The older man smiled a bit at that, nodding as he took his hand away. "Thank goodness for the young, reminding the old to live in the present."

***

That night Arthur lay awake, Mordred snoring quietly nearby. He thought once more about his father, about how their last days together had gone, and now with the distance of time seeing things with a strange sort of clarity.

Arthur knew for certain that he would always love his father.

But that love could not eclipse the fact that his father had not been a good man.

The fact didn't hurt like he thought it might, and perhaps seeing Vortimer's own honesty had given him the courage to move passed the shadow that still felt like it was looming over him. The specter of many misdeeds, a ghost of wrongdoing that Arthur would carry no further.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The surname I concocted for Gwaine is in the pattern of how Pendragon is made up (kinda). It's the Welsh words (or at least one version of them) for Lord and Lion smashed together, as part of Yvain's presence in legend gives him a lion for a buddy, so I figured something that affected the sort of message of "Lord over Lions" like Pendragon apparently meaning "Head of Dragons" or whatever might.


	35. The Black Agnes

When his eyes opened he wasn't sure what he was seeing at first, the beginnings of dawn only just showing. Over him a figure stood, Arthur squinting as he tried to make out the features, his breath catching as things finally sorted themselves out, revealing Merlin's sharp featured face.

It was a dream undoubtedly but one he was immensely grateful for, the man's smile making his heart light.

He smiled in response just as Merlin reached out, the dark haired man caressing his cheek gently, Arthur unable to resist his desires, bringing his own hand up to catch it's counterpart, holding it captive there against his face as he leaned into the touch.

Merlin laughed softly, a sound Arthur longed to hear again in the real world. "I missed you too."

As the dawn-light crept in further it lit Merlin with pink and gold, the man kneeling at the bedside, his hand kept firm to Arthur's face. He continued to speak in hushed tones despite the circumstances, the blonde man laying his head down again so he could look at him better. 

"I wish I could help you as the others have been, but there is much to do at home... I only just... I had to see you." The physician drew his thumb up over the rise of Arthur's cheekbone, the conflict clear on his face. Oh how he wished this was real.

"Close your eyes, go back to sleep..." Merlin's tone had turned conflicted, causing Arthur to squeeze his hand gently, the King sighing softly and finally turning did as he wanted to: laying a kiss on the physician's palm with a small smile. Something felt very right about the moment.

His dream of Merlin looked at him with such affection he felt like his own heart was being squeezed, the man leaning in as close as he could as he drew his hand out of Arthur's grip. "...sleep, sire, and dream of nothing... Carry only my gift away with you when you wake."

Arthur's eyes grew heavy with each word, sliding closed at the last.

***

When Arthur woke up he felt good. Better than he'd felt in a while.

As he slid from bed he found Mordred already up and dressed, the boy grumbling to himself quietly about fools disturbing his morning. Whatever that meant.

"Good morning." The boy finally greeted as Arthur poured himself a goblet of water, trying to get his thoughts in order for the day.

'Good morning. You're up unusually early.'

"As if you wouldn't know as to why." Mordred grunted, giving him a sidelong look from where he sat leaned over the basin of water.

'I wouldn't, actually.' Arthur replied, cocking his head a bit as he meandered over to see what the boy was doing. 'Unless I happened to kick you?'

The boy looked at him hard for a moment, eyes narrowing. Then suddenly his face changed into one of extreme exasperation. "Honestly I ought to just kill the both of you. Put you out of your misery. It would solve a great deal of problems."

'Well that's not alarming in the slightest.' The King commented, rolling his eyes. 'What is it you're doing with the wash basin?'

"Well I _was_ attempting to scry someone but it seems they're refusing to answer." The boy flicked his wrist, the basin raising up out of his lap and floating back toward the small table which it usually rested upon. "There's been some spooky stuff happening this morning. Morgana came around earlier and told me to stay with you today."

'As if that stops you from doing what you like.'

"That said, evidently there's some sort of monster on the prowl." Mordred continued, ignoring his color commentary. "Something about a child eater."

'...how lovely.' Arthur observed blandly, setting his goblet back on the table and going to wash his face, considering the information as he went through his routine. 'I assume Morgana has gone out with some of Vortimer's men?'

"She said she was going to take Lancelot and Percy. The King doesn't seem to have any sorcerers of high enough caliber to deal with things, so Morgana offered to take a look." Mordred paused, brow furrowing. "I think she's looking for some favors, honestly."

'I'm sure it's for the good of all... But it doesn't hurt our relations with Caerleon loaning her skills out.'

"I should've gone with." The boy huffed suddenly, sliding from his chair and going to the window. "I could've helped."

'Ah yes, you would've made a lovely snack for the child eater.'

"I'm barely even a child."

'Grow a bit more and maybe I'll be inclined to agree.'

***

When Morgana returned there was a deep set frown on her face, the woman ignoring Arthur and Mordred as they followed her into her chambers, only giving them a second glance as she scryed for Gaius.

When the image of the man appeared in her mirror she finally spoke, giving him a soft greeting before getting to the meat of the problem.

"I believe the Black Agnes is in Caerleon. The villages near to the citadel have suffered robbing of their young livestock in recent weeks and now children have begun to disappear straight from their beds." Arthur noticed belatedly that her hands were clenched in her lap.

Gaius looked baffled for a moment before his face turned grave, somehow looking paler than he already was. "The Black Agnes? But such a thing could only be..."

"Summoned." Mordred murmured, jaw clenching in a surprising manner at the notion. The King frowned in response, looking between the three for some kind of elaboration.

"...I need to know the means for which it's summoned. If I can find the means here then it's hideaway cannot be far afield."

"Even so, Morgana, The Black Agnes isn't... It's unkillable." Gaius rubbed a hand over his mouth, looking anxious. "I must consult my books... I'll scry you soon."

"Thank you, Grandfather." She sighed, the magic fading and with it the elderly man's face.

Arthur looked between Mordred and Morgana, brows raised. 'An unkillable monster that eats children is here?'

"Seems so." Mordred grunted, looking a little pale faced himself.

"All spirits have terms for which they can be driven away... I'm certain that she does as well." Morgana said firmly, standing and turning toward them, giving them both a confident smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "We'll handle everything and then King Vortimer will be more than willing to give us aid."

'As grand a thought that is I feel like you're also insulting my diplomatic skills.' Arthur commented, trying to lighten the mood. Mordred didn't deliver the sentiment quite right though, Morgana snorting and rolling her eyes.

"Typical Wart. Always making it about _you_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A cameo I couldn't really resist. I missed him, okay?? :T
> 
> In reality The Black Agnes is an alternative name for the monster. It's actually called a Black Annis more widely, but given the fact that Queen Annis is present I didn't want to get anybody confused.


	36. Into The Woods

When Gaius did scry again he had little information to give, the elderly man looking frazzled. "The best course of action would be to ward the citadel against evil. Treat all the openings with anise oil and then do what you can for the citizenry. Have them place cloves in the cradles and beds of their children."

'Is there nothing more proactive to be done?' Arthur asked, Mordred's expression mirroring his. 'Several children have already been taken. We surely cannot allow-'

"The texts say that she will begin to eat when the Moon wanes." The warlock cut in, narrowing his eyes slightly at the pair of them, Morgana already up and picking through the herbs and spices that she had confiscated ahead of this from the kitchens and Court Physician. "Tonight it will be Full, so you have the day and the night to prepare and sort out where she may be."

'And what of protecting ourselves?' The blonde pressed, glancing toward the sorceress who had begun grinding down seeds. 'Should we treat ourselves with something? Cloves perhaps?'

"Wearing them on your person would not be remiss but I have a more powerful suggestion. Rosemary should be worn by all who you take with you to search her out. It will keep her from coming too near or in the least staying there."

Arthur frowned a bit, raising an eyebrow. Truly magic was the strangest thing having a flavorful herb be able to repel evil.

***

Mordred found himself grinding his teeth, the adults around him getting lost in their preparations, leaving him to his eternal aggravation to only grind down herbs.

The strongest sorcerer of his generation and he was saddled with grunt work.

This was going to take _too long_.

They were treating him like a child.

They _needed_ him. He could _help_.

'You look like the back end of a cat.' Arthur commented as he meandered back through, dressed for riding and smelling of rosemary, his sword in his belt.

"And you look like a horse's arse." He grunted, pointedly scraping the pestle against the mortar's wall loudly. The King rolled his eyes, setting a hand down on Mordred's head and mussing his hair.

'I'm going to accompany Lancelot and Percival into the forest. Morgana is attending to the citadel and will need your help tending to the citizens.'

"This is stupid. I _can_ help."

'You're right. You'll be helping Morgana.' Arthur replied, entirely curt as he headed for the door. 'Stay close to her when you go out.'

"Stay close to her when you go out." Mordred repeated mockingly, the blonde pausing and then making a motion that suggested he had his eye on Mordred. The boy only scoffed. "Just _go_."

***

Like he was going to listen to all that. Morgana could handle the people. Arthur was utterly useless without him, Mordred would just have to take matters into his own hands.

Following the three men proved harder than he'd thought, and the boy found himself quickly lost in the trees, the hoof beats that he'd been trailing fading away and leaving him with the simple fauna sounds.

Grimacing Mordred worked to try and find the telltale signs of recent passage but found only dense thickets and undisturbed underbrush, not a branch out of sorts. It was unnerving to say the least.

Squaring his shoulders the child pushed ahead, grinding his teeth again as he scanned the treeline, letting his magic wander slightly to maintain some kind of control over the situation.

He idly wondered if the Black Agnes liked the taste of magical boys better than non-magical ones, inadvertently making his skin crawl. He needed to find Arthur.

Hurrying his pace he found that every little bush seemed to grab at him, forcing him into more of a run than he'd intended, the Druid boy looking behind himself briefly, thinking he heard something moving. The move was a mistake, Mordred ending up face first in the dirt, the smell of rancid meat assaulting his nostrils.

He gagged as he scrambled up and away from where he had fell, looking around and finally spying the source. What appeared to be a dismembered lamb was heaped up nearby, Mordred first thinking it covered in ants and grubs but instead finding it to be strange, grooved seeds and what appeared to be human teeth.

The boy dry heaved again, cringing and screaming a moment later as something grabbed him and yanked him up from where he sat. A hand clamped over his mouth, whoever it was turning him around once he was silenced.

Mordred had hoped desperately that it was Arthur and the others, but his hopes were dashed when he found the scruffy Errant Knight of Morgana's visions standing over him.

"You? What're you doing all the way out here?" The man - Gwaine, he remembered belatedly - asked, looking around, brow furrowed. "Shouldn't you be hiding your little noble head with the others?"

Mordred let out a slightly shrill laugh at the notion, pushing Gwaine's hands off him and shoving him bodily back and away from the stinking pile, his skin crawling as he tried to ignore the awful smell. "Not a noble, thanks."

"Fooled me." The brunette replied drily, not moving far as he stared over at the awful sight. "What in the world is that?"

"I don't know... I..." Mordred paused, forcing himself to look back, swallowing hard as he refused the urge to gag again. "I think it might be what was used to summon the Black Agnes."

"You really shouldn't be out here." Gwaine stated, looking back down at him. "Are they really that stupid to take you with?"

"I was following them!" The Druid boy growled, shoving Gwaine and beginning to head off. "I've got to find them. Arthur is utterly useless without me. He can't even _talk_ without me, how's he expect to save a bunch of children without me??"

"They're what?" Of course the man was determined to make a nuisance of himself.

Mordred turned back, throwing up his hands and gesturing off into the wood. "They're going after the children. Without. ME."

"But why would they _care_?" Gwaine asked, making Mordred's head hurt with his stupidity. "They're-"

"Arthur's not _like_ that. Lancelot isn't a noble's son, nor is Percy. They're common men that Arthur trusts. Like me. And they want to save the other children because it's what's right!" Shoving his way through further brush he pushed his magic outward, trying to pick up anything that could give him a good direction. "Arthur cares. He can't hide it from me, even if he wanted to. I hear everything."

For whatever reason Gwaine just laughed, following after him. "You're certainly a spitfire..."

"And you're a total idiot." Mordred grunted, Gwaine laughing once more. "Now go away, I have to find the way."

"Not a chance." The scruffy man hummed, his gaze turning skyward as the light started to wane. "A child, alone in the forest? In the dark? With that _thing_ out and about? I've got to keep an eye on you."

"Then you better prove to be as good as the vision said or I'm going to be up a creek."

Gwaine just laughed again.


	37. Gilded Cage

Night fell quickly over the forest, Mordred's stomach twisting into miserable knots as he found alarmingly that he couldn't feel out a path or even the edge of the trees. It was as though they'd fallen into a trap just by treading too close to the blasted ghoul's stomping grounds.

"Fairly certain I've seen that knothole before." Gwaine commented, tone even despite the tension he felt. The man honestly couldn't control his emotional activity. It spiked constantly in a way that reminded him of Arthur, making it easy to focus on over the feeling of fear that was creeping up his spine.

"I'm afraid we're caught." He finally offered, gritting his teeth as he stopped and looked around. His ears were what confirmed it first, the lack of ambient noise making his hair stand on end. Hurriedly he pulled out the sprig of rosemary he'd tied around his neck, wrestling with it till it snapped in half. Turning he shoved it at Gwaine, smacking it against his stomach. "Take this and stick it into your tunic."

"A bit of twig?" The scruffy man asked despite taking it, holding it up and squinting at it as Mordred's witch light bobbed overhead. "Smells odd."

"S'rosemary. It'll help keep you from getting your face torn off if we run into The Black Agnes." Mordred huffed, tucking the twine and rosemary back under his shirt, nose wrinkling at the strong smell that had permeated his fingertips. "I'm not sure where to go from here. We may have to walk till the Sun comes back."

Regardless of his apparent skepticism Gwaine dropped it down his tunic regardless, moving the cloth till it sat in a tolerable place against his belly. Pointedly ignoring the flitting fragments of the man's thoughts Mordred knelt, threading his fingers through the blades of grass to press the tips to the earth, praying silently as he pushed his magic through it and outward.

"...so what is it... you're doing there?" He asked after a moment, sounding sheepish. Mordred didn't need his mind reading to understand that the man hadn't been close to magic much in his life.

"I'm trying to create wards... We're going to stay here till dawn. There's no point in wandering around in her web. We'll just increase our chances of getting hurt."

"Right, right..." Gwaine agreed vaguely, glancing around as he spoke. "You're sure that won't just bring her here? Us being in the thick of it and all and you doing that?"

It hadn't really occurred to him, Mordred steeling himself against the sliver of panic that cropped up, putting on a brave face and trying to think of something clever to say. "...well. If she comes to us... that means less time for her to eat the children, right?"

The scruffy man laughed, rubbing a hand over his face and shaking his head, not looking at Mordred for whatever reason. "Brave kid." He muttered to himself instead, batting at the witch light that hovered nearby.

Slowly Mordred managed to twine his magic into the trees, their sympathetic systems helping him to make a safe circle around them, the little warlock bringing the strands up over them to tie together in a near cage-like manner. No getting in and no getting out for now.

"So... If you're not a noble, boy, what are you?" Gwaine asked once he straightened up, making to stand again. It was a stupid question he felt like, surely a man from noble blood would know a common man just looking at him?

"I'm a Druid." He stated simply, shrugging his shoulders as he looked the brunette in the eye. "More simply: I'm a warlock."

Gwaine snorted, smiling a bit at the response. His mind was whirling with new questions and fragments of old, his curiosity reading like a beacon. Now that he was trapped in with him he was going to interrogate Mordred like some kind of criminal. Just what he needed.

"And to your King?"

That was a more nuanced question than he'd expected, Gwaine's thoughts snapping together too fast for him to completely anticipate it. The man's mind was like a heap of broken pottery that someone kept shuffling, just when something seemed to align it was off again.

"...well... I'm... A lot of things." He deflected slightly, frowning as he flopped back down onto the grass, figuring it was pointless to stand around for the remainder of the night. "I'm his Squire... And his Translator."

"Now that's a pair of titles I was not expecting." Gwaine chuckled, sitting down across from him, settling his sword across his thighs.

"You would've heard them sooner if you hadn't run off when we met." Mordred grunted, eyeing him. "You owe Morgana an apology for all that."

At least Gwaine had the grace to look ashamed. "Yes... Well. You're quite right... I suppose I have to pay for that little bit of catharsis." He sighed, shaking his head as he looked down at his sword.

Mordred watched him a moment, an uncomfortable feeling growing in his gut as he felt what went on. "...I know how you feel." He admitted quietly, his nerves spiking at that admission. It wasn't something he could easily express, not even to Arthur.

"It was... Things were similar, for me..." He paused, grimacing as Gwaine fixed his eyes on him again, it making it harder to move his mouth. "My father didn't deserve it. He was kind. It's never made sense. It never... It's not going to ever make sense."

Seeing Gwaine's eyes go all soft made him want to bury his face in his hands and never look up again. It felt humiliating somehow despite how it had been him trying to sympathize in the first place. "Holding onto it doesn't help, it just makes you mad."

"You're too young to be talking like this." Gwaine murmured, Mordred laughing that time, the sound awkward and a tiny bit brittle.

"Well, I guess when you're as empty headed as you are you might think that."

***

When dawn came Mordred was shook awake, his head propped up on Gwaine's thigh. He'd no idea when he'd fallen asleep, nor how he'd gotten over there in the first place.

To his chagrin Gwaine had answers that weren't the mundane sort.

"Your cage held it away." Gwaine explained carefully, the dark circles under his eyes speaking volumes. "But it worked your magic hard. You were barely awake to start but whatever she was doing... You went and passed out, but the cage stayed."

Well... Thank goodness for small miracles such as that.

It explained why he felt so tired despite having slept.

As the Sun rose higher the Black Agnes' influence waned, the treeline thinning despite their unmoving state, the pair eventually finding themselves at the very edge now with the magic barring their leaving effectively gone.

That wasn't all that was there.

'MORDRED!'

The blonde man came barreling in so hard he collided with the cage and shattered through the last of Mordred's spell, Arthur stumbling before regaining his bearings, scooping the dark haired boy up and hugging him tightly. 'You daft little _bastard_! How dare you go out after us!'

"Arthur... I can't breathe..."

'I ought to be throttling you instead of hugging you!' The King growled sharply, the tone holding all of it's edge with the intensity the blonde was exuding. Mordred cringed, weakly shoving against his chest.

"Cut it out, I'm tired... I was up all night with the scruffy weirdo's nattering... I want to go to bed." He whined through a wheeze, Arthur finally putting him on his feet and looking him over, checking for any kind of damage apparently. The man was fretting aggravatingly loud, Mordred feeling like his head was pounding from that alone.

"Should really get the tyke to bed." Gwaine commented, finally approaching, looking oddly sheepish. "He did well to keep that hag away in the night. Probably completely drained of whatever little warlocks use to keep running 'round."

Arthur stared at him blankly for a moment, looking down at Mordred and then up again at Gwaine.

'...what is he doing with you?'

"I found him when I tried to follow you. I feel like that was punishment enough." Mordred grunted, leaning heavily against Arthur's hip, using his lovehandle as a pillow as he stood there. "Thank me later."

'Why?'

"Now he knows you're not a royal prat, just a regular one."

'Mordred!'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now we can hopefully get on to Gwaine and Arthur being on friendly terms :>


	38. Walking Trouble

The three men had spent most of the night combing the area around the forest for Mordred, finding it impossible to get deeper than in sight of the exterior ring of trees, whatever the Black Agnes' magic had done to keep the boy and vagabond lost equally keeping the swordsmen from getting inside. It was unsurprising to her when Lancelot and Percy quickly bid her a polite good morning and departed for the chambers they shared with Leon, Arthur and Mordred in a heap on the bed in the adjacent room, snoring loudly.

That left Morgana with Gwaine, the scruffy man looking sheepish as she gave him a pointed looking over. Thank goodness everything had worked out, she wouldn't have forgiven herself if something had happened to Mordred.

"My lady-"

She held up a hand, surprised slightly when he actually closed his mouth, finishing up her looking before dropping her arm back to her side. "You kept him safe, that's apology enough."

The dark haired man eyed her almost shyly as he spoke. "That's an eerie talent you've got."

"I was born with it." She offered absently, crossing the chamber and closing off the room that the two slept on in. "I would very much appreciate it if you would give me your account of what happened in the forest."

"...with the...?" Gwaine's voice was soft, strangely reverent in a way that made her feel oddly warm, a brief longing for Guinevere flitting through her mind.

"Yes. What happened with the Black Agnes. It will help us move forward with our combating it."

"Our?" He echoed, Morgana smirking slightly as she crossed to the table, pouring out two goblets of wine and motioning for him to sit.

"Coy isn't a terribly good fit for your face."

"I thought perhaps I should keep up the chase." He murmured, crossing and taking what had been offered, taking a sip as he regarded her over the opposing rim.

"Save your machinations for my brother, I haven't the time nor the luxury to play hunter." She chided, smiling regardless as she thumbed the stem of her own goblet.

Gwaine's account of his trek till Mordred was mostly uneventful, his description of what Mordred had thought to be a summoning mechanism keenly interesting her above all, the little tid bit about Arthur's mother henning making her laugh softly to herself as she called the basin of water over that she had been using not long ago to look for Mordred. "He is strangely fond of the boy."

"Must've been good for him." The man commented, scrubbing his fingers through his beard, itching at his chin thoughtfully as he eyed the sorceress. "I heard a fair amount about Camelot's King..."

Morgana hummed at that trailing comment, waving her hand over the surface, calling out across the land for a connection. "He wasn't exactly one of a modest reputation."

"Genocide never is a quiet thing."

"What a lovely thing to come in on." A disembodied voice commented, Morgana's gaze snapping down to the water's surface with a smile.

"Having a good morning, Merlin?" She asked, Gwaine's eyebrows raising as he slowly headed around the table to her side, peering over with interest.

"I was till you scryed me." He sighed, frowning up at her from the basin. "What are you after now?"

"I believe there is a wayward trainee nearby. Could you see who is off the Isle for me?" She asked carefully, lips pursed slightly. "There was a summoning of a caliber beyond the basic masteries."

Merlin looked about to reply when Gwaine cut in, speaking through a chuckle. "What sort of serendipity made it so that you two happen to know each other?"

"...Gwaine?"

Morgana just looked between them, brow furrowing. "You've met?"

"Once upon a dream." Gwaine replied cheekily, winking at Merlin as he looked back down, the man in question pink cheeked. "A few weeks ago at the least."

"Amid a tavern brawl. Which he started." Merlin sighed, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. "I suppose he's helping you out somehow?"

"One of the men I saw in my visions unfortunately." Morgana replied, feeling the urge to do the same despite how all the pieces were slowly falling into place that would pave their way toward their goal. Of course the second Merlin leaves Ealdor he runs across walking trouble.

"...I'll scry you when I have news. Take care." Merlin finally said, smiling awkwardly as he looked between the two before the water rippled and his image was wiped away.

Morgana just gave Gwaine a tired look, the brunette trying to put on an innocent one in response.

"You're going to be insufferable, aren't you?"

"The worst, I'm afraid."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone needs a nap. Including me.


	39. The Moon Wanes

Arthur awoke to the sound of Merlin's voice filtering quietly through the ajar door, smiling purely on reflex as he stretched and yawned, blinking blearily up at the canopy as Mordred's half-snoring breaths mingled with the physician's words.

It took about a minute for him to realize exactly why the voice was out of place and he slid from bed when it finally came to him, padding to the door hurriedly. Was he here? Could he be? Or had Morgana scryed him for some strange purpose?

He hesitated at the edge of the door, hand curled around the wood, his body poised to open it. What was he doing? What was the point? Merlin was...

"She'd been meant to return to the Isle over a week ago, she's the only one capable of this level of ill intent... Niniane has been covering her tracks well, though. Keeping in touch with her coven mates and their head. The High Priestesses had no inkling of such behavior..." Listening to Merlin's voice made him grip the wood a little harder, the King taking a slow breath in to try and quell the malicious thoughts that bubbled up and began to eat at him.

He could let this go, he _would_ let these feelings go.

"-their guide... She made mention that Niniane hails from Rheged."

"Ah." Arthur belatedly realized it was Morgana picking up the thread, though weirdly he thought he heard the scruffy sellsword murmur some words of interest, unintelligible this far away but noticeable nonetheless. "Finally, a connection we can work with."

"I thought the same." Merlin replied, his tone strangely coming through rough, making Arthur's stomach twist and his face warm. "Essetir is seeing a similar flavor of problem. I've heard talk that Cenred has brought bad blood between he and the Prince."

Arthur wanted to laugh. Of course Cenred would. A King in the style of the barbarians of decades past would barely uphold borders properly, let alone receive good will in anything but a callous manner.

"No shock there." Gwaine's voice came through clearly this time, Morgana humming her agreement.

"They must be looking to stir up something here for use as leverage. Caerleon is not known for having great magical resources, let alone anyone who could deal with the Black Agnes... Surely they must think that King Vortimer will reach out to them for aid, as powerful as they are supposed to be."

"Pretty insidious." The scruffy man commented, Arthur frowning in agreement as he hovered beside the door. He tried to argue with himself that it was obnoxious to eavesdrop on a conversation he was clearly more than welcome to listen to openly... but he found he couldn't quite move his feet.

"-solution however was found to send her back from whence she came." Merlin's voice cut through his thoughts again, snapping his attention back to the importance of the conversation rather than his treacherous heart's peculiarities. "You need to call upon the goddesses' gifts: cut the boughs from an Oak tree and burn them when she is upon you, cover her in it's ash and she will be forced to return home."

"You're certain?" Morgana pressed, voice brittle with her evident nerves. "My power is still raw, Merlin. You know-"

"I have faith in you. You're more than capable... Aside from that, you won't be alone." Merlin soothed, Arthur just barely hearing Morgana's footfalls, it telling him she'd begun to pace. One of their few shared traits.

"...I suppose." She conceded after a minute of the useless walking, Arthur resting his forehead against the door and shutting his eyes. It seemed Merlin was the rock everyone needed to lean on. "I'll prepare us all with runes in addition to the other wards, goodness knows that it'd be just our luck that one of you lot would lose theirs."

Gwaine just let out a little laugh. "Oh you think so?"

"I know so." She quipped back.

Merlin laughed faintly at the pair, making Arthur's stomach twist again.

***

When Arthur and Mordred emerged from the room adjacent Morgana had been mixing herby paints up for roughly a hour, Gwaine roped into some of the assembly, the pair having talked quietly about this and that after Merlin had closed contact with them. Apparently he was a busy man now.

"About time the two of you woke up." She hummed, Mordred shooting Arthur a look that didn't go unnoticed, the blonde pointedly not looking anywhere in the boy's direction.

Curious.

"We've got a solution." She continued, waving vaguely toward the gathered materials and then toward the door. "While we're taking care of this you two should go make yourselves useful and gather Oak branches."

Mordred made an odd noise as he combed his hands through his hair, looking rather like a bothered cat as he did so. "Oak branches? Isn't this enough to keep her away?"

"We've got to cover her in their ashes to exorcise her from wherever she's set up her feasting grounds." She elaborated, watching Arthur curiously as he headed for the cabinet, pausing and eyeing both the basin and the nearby mirror.

Curious indeed.

"So we get to do the heavy lifting while you and Gwaine putter around in here." Mordred commented, Morgana not entirely certain whose words they were.

"Don't pout, just make yourselves useful. I've already got Lancelot and sweet Percy doing my errands. Leon is off practicing."

"Practicing what?" This time it was certainly Arthur talking to her, her brother actually looking her way that time, a new set of clothes draped over his arm as he idled beside the dressing screen.

Smiling broadly waved her hand nonchalantly. "A fire spell. It seems he's more of a natural than I'd thought he'd be."

Arthur seemed briefly shocked, making her smile turn more on the edge of a smirk, his eyes averting and then rolling a bit as he caught her reaction to his disquiet. "It doesn't come as a surprise, he is one of the most talented men I've ever met."

Morgana just giggled softly, raising her eyebrows at his posturing, the man huffing at her before disappearing behind the screen to dress.

Her brother was far too easy to tease.

***

The trek through the forest went much better than the night prior, Arthur worrying vaguely that it was because the horror that awaited was busy with her meal, the thought reaching Mordred and making the boy grab onto his arm briefly.

Morgana had painted their cheeks and chests with protective runes before she'd let them all put on their tunics and the herbs they'd strung together, each of them armed with an Oak bough and looking like some kind of antiquated hunting party.

Witch lights bobbing around their heads they pushed forward into the thickest part of the woodland, the quiet surrounding them starting to ebb from the constant the night would bring, the silence near deafening if not for their footsteps.

"Lovely night for a walk." Gwaine just had to put out there, making Arthur want to press his fingers to his eyes and groan. The man could absolutely not keep his mouth shut.

'Why did we bring _everyone_?' He asked Morgana, sighing internally as the man in question laughed.

"Best to do this in numbers." She replied, though for her part she looked more than pleased at his irritation.

'If I didn't know better I'd say you were enjoying this.'

"You just make it too easy." The scruffy sellsword cut in again, prodding Arthur with his branch, the blonde swatting it away with a loud huff.

"You-" The words that would've come were cut off by an ear piercing screeching, Mordred immediately attaching to his waist as the knights around them turned, Percy raising his branch (the thickest they'd brought) up in anticipation, Leon muttering a spell beside him before the leaves of his own started on fire.

Morgana began lighting the rest aflame as the screeching seemingly intensified, a rapid shuffling of leaves and snapping of branches signalling that their quarry was drawing near.

'Don't worry, Mordred. Just stay close to me.' He patted the side of the boy's head before brandishing the branch out forward properly, Morgana lighting his as the awful sound finally reached it's peak, Arthur wondering briefly if his ears would begin to bleed because of it.

Morgana's voice rose up against the apparition's as the Black Agnes finally burst from the forest before them, the sorceress' chanting the only thing keeping Arthur steady for whatever reason. As he looked on at the gaping maw of the crone-like thing he shuddered, her huge hulking form bearing down on them a few seconds later as Gwaine and he started swiping at her, raining ash and sparks down upon her.

The screaming felt like it was inside of him as the substance touched her, the monstrosity grabbing for them and writhing as she was quickly surrounded and covered by the rain of ash.

"Níedgenga áglæca!" Morgana shouted with a kind of finality to her tone that shook Arthur to his core, the shrieking ceasing as suddenly the form wobbled and was seemingly sucked into itself, the Black Agnes disappearing with an earsplitting sort of cracking sound, as though lightning had struck at the center of their group.

"...is it...?" Lancelot started after a moment or two, his hands still white knuckled about his burning branch. "Is it gone?"

"It's gone." Morgana confirmed through a sigh of relief, lowering her own as she whispered a few words, the fire going out instantly for each of them.

"...well." Leon began, throwing his aside and rubbing a hand over his face, wicking away whatever sweat had worked up at his brow. "Now all that's left is to find the children."

"...and the summoner." Mordred added reluctantly, the rest of them letting go of their own frustrated sounds.

'No rest for the weary.' Arthur returned, petting a hand over Mordred's head before nudging him to stand aside, the blonde trudging on ahead with purpose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What Morgana said at the end there was just pretty much "begone demon" in Old English.
> 
> Jfc I had a hard time getting this chapter out of my brain... It's hard piecing together things that'd make folkloric sense.


	40. The Lioness

Without the Black Agnes the forest unfolded normally, the group finding themselves at the mouth of a cave, the sounds of both human child and animal young coming from within, Arthur's teeth clenching slightly at the wails. At least they were now in safe hands.

Gathering them up was no hardship, the children running to clutch at their legs immediately and the wobbly lambs and calves congregating surprisingly around Mordred, the boy offering no explanation for it, only petting the heads of the livestock before heading out ahead of the rest of them. Clearly his confidence had returned now that the danger had passed.

"Seems you've got some good bones in you after all, Pendragon." Gwaine commented, two toddlers clutching onto him, their arms thrown around his neck and their faces buried against his shoulders. He smirked as Arthur shot him a dirty look, the blonde having an older boy on his shoulders and a younger one in his arms.

"Oh don't pretend. The proof is there for all to see." The brunette continued, Arthur rolling his eyes judiciously. Of course it was, it had always _been_ out there, he wasn't hiding anything about himself. He just couldn't ruddy talk.

"Shame about you being a prat."

For that the sellsword earned himself a kick to the ankle, his target just laughing at him.

***

The returning of the children was more complicated than anticipated, the knights and their King fully expecting to leave the group of them to the chamberlain and the lady servants that'd been gathered... Only to find the whimpering, sniffling children were very hard to peel off.

Arthur grimaced as the grip on him was tightened unexpectedly as the boy on his shoulders clung onto his head, the servant that had attempted to pluck him off the King's shoulders looking helplessly over the three of them. The boy in Arthur's arms posed a similar problem, digging his wee fingers into his tunic and refusing to unhook himself.

"This is fine." Gwaine assured the women, smiling beguilingly at them as they ceased their attempts for the moment. "Could you see if you could gather up the townsfolk in question that might be missing them? They'd surely rather cling on to their parents." He chuckled, absently adjusting his hold on his two little burdens.

This was worse than dealing with Mordred.

"I'm nothing like that." The boy in question commented from the back, still surrounded by his little flock and looking unamused.

"He making an ass out of himself again?" Morgana questioned idly, looking between the two of them before placing her attention back on the little girl she had been handling.

"It's more like a constant state of being."

'You're really asking for it, mite.' Arthur grumbled, narrowing his eyes at the boy as Gwaine sniggered beside him, earning the man another kick to the shin.

Mordred merely shrugged, looking from him to Morgana. "How should we round up our culprit?"

"A good question." The woman sighed, rubbing her tired eyes. For the first time Arthur noticed the dark circles she bore, the King frowning in sympathy. Undoubtedly she'd been working through the last day and night... He wondered if she'd seen a bed yet.

"There may be a way to pinpoint her location... But that will take some doing by myself and Mordred. Best to keep everyone in the citadel aware of who might be in their midst... Though she may have fled when we exorcised the woodland." The woman finally pulled her hand away, petting the top of the girl's head that clung to her skirts still.

It felt somewhat like a miracle that it was not long for the citizens to come retrieve their children, tearful reunions and boisterous thanks from the lot of them that Arthur hurried to extricate himself, Mordred, and Morgana from, noticing his sister weaving on her feet.

'You're to go to bed. King's orders.' He said as he bullied her up the staircase toward the guest chambers, the sorceress muttering about how she ought to hex him further the entire way up.

"You're a boar, Arthur." She grunted, her tone unladylike and the look she shot him off key comparatively, her relief leaking through her hardened airs.

'Of course. I'm the King.' Arthur commented, feeling very self satisfied as she flopped into her bed while he and Mordred made for the door.

'Sleep well, my lady.'

***

Left to their own devices the small group practically patrolled around the castle's interior, checking that all the protections they'd requested still were in place, Mordred pausing in the receiving hall and considering the door carefully.

'What're you doing?'

"Well." Mordred started, glancing Arthur's way with a dry look. "For one I'm thinking, something I'm sure you're unfamiliar with."

'Ha ha.'

"For two: I'm thinking about whether it might be possible to... Reach out to her." He gestured toward the large doors. "Go up and knock, so to speak."

'Wouldn't that be hard on you?' Arthur asked carefully, knowing full well that Mordred dealt with some difficulty just by having too many people present in one place with how his magical hearing worked.

The boy pursed his lips, considering the King a moment before shrugging. "Maybe. Most of what I do is experimental, so it's not like I've got any real references to consult. That's the problem with being me."

He said it carelessly but Arthur heard a note of something entirely different, the King frowning and ruffling his hair. 'It gladdens my heart that you're not the nefarious sort. You'd be a terrifying opponent.'

Mordred laughed suddenly at that, shooting Arthur a look that was for once fond. "Just wait till I best you at sword fighting."

'As if that'll ever happen.'

"It will! And soon!"

***

The testing of such a thing came with results that made Arthur's heart hammer awfully, Mordred nearly falling face first into the table when the sorceress pushed back against his effective invasion. Catching him before he could strike the surface he leaned him back, the boy gasping sharply and his eyes opening back up, bright with gold and light.

"Here."

'What?'

"She's _here_." The boy pushed against him, trying to wriggle from his light hold but shockingly having little energy to do so. "She's- Arthur she's going for the baby!"

Vortimer's youngest child?

The blonde grit his teeth, pushing Mordred back to sit and looking to Leon, motioning for him to make haste out the door, grabbing his sword on the way. If Niniane absconded with the child it would undoubtedly mean dark things for their future dealings.

The four of them charged down the halls for the royal wing, Leon far ahead alerting the guards and servants alike of what was happening.

When they made it to the room the lot of them practically charged down the door, a cacophony of heavy breathing met only by the quiet cooing of a babe.

Queen Annis stood in the middle of the wrecked room with her newborn in one arm and a broken chair leg in her hand, dressed in a white shift and loose furs. At her feet lay a pale haired woman, her hair noticeably bloodied.

Gwaine whistled low at the scene, causing the imposing woman to finally grace them all with a stony stare.

"Clean up this mess." She stated, voice shocking in how commanding it was in it's simplicity. There was no force, only expectation.

Her guards hurriedly did as they were told, beginning to clear away the debris and bind the prisoner up. Lancelot was the first to assist, doing his best to advise on how to handle her. In his travels he'd heard of something called cold iron that could be able to safely lock up those with magic, he and Leon discussing the merit back and forth with those in Caerleon's employ as they carried Niniane from the room.

Arthur was practically frozen in the doorway, watching Queen Annis carefully as she turned her attentions on the newborn, dropping the bloodied chair leg and smoothing a hand over the baby's cheek. She was instantly wrapped up in looking over the child, eyes warm in shocking contrast to how they'd been mere moments before.

His gut twisted and the exiled King was finally able to look away, motioning for Percy and Gwaine to come back with him, knowing that Lancelot and Leon would be fine left to their own devices.

Vortimer and Annis would deal with Niniane as was their right, the situation thankfully out of his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had to really wrack my brain to get through this one. Hopefully Morgana has a nice nap??


	41. Winter Comes

Arthur dreams of his Mother, the image of her clear but the voice she speaks to him not quite right, her gentle tones somehow wrong against her lips. She smiles and leads him by the hand, kissing his knuckles and forehead in gestures he'd only wondered at when he was a boy. The effect of them rattles his bones and makes his chest seize.

His Mother murmurs to him and smooths his hair, wiping at his cheeks with her thumb.

When he wakes his face is soaked, a quick rub of his shirt sleeve ridding him of the moisture as he throws himself out of bed, looking to the windows blearily as he pulled on a coat. He needed air, his lungs were aching for it like he'd been suffocated moments before.

The night is cool but not terribly so, the last vestiges of Summer's warmth keeping Autumn from ruining him. It was clearly hours to daybreak, Arthur heaving a loud sigh as he leaned against the wall, hands rubbing over his biceps then his face as he tried to calm down.

It had been years since such a thing had happened, the King reasoning that the stress and the fresh memory of Caerleon's Queen had brought such specters to the fore. A wound he doubted would ever really heal opening because he was over extended emotionally.

The surge of loneliness when he'd looked upon Annis and her child was surely not the cause, nor the irrational jealousy he'd felt in the courtyard when the mothers had come for their children.

No it was only stress, nothing more.

***

Princess Heliose artfully gummed at his sleeve edge as he sat awkwardly in the Queen's chambers, the fire roaring in the hearth as they both waited for her mother to return. Arthur hadn't a single clue as to why she'd called him in and left him to sit with the babe when surely a nursemaid would be more fitting, but with no voice to ask and no idea what she was after he declined to find a way to object.

The winter wind whipped outside the windows, rattling them and briefly drawing the tiny girl's attention, the four month old infant's tiny, barely haired brows drawing together in confusion. Arthur made a bid to free his arm from her grasp, gently trying to slide it away, but she grabbed on tighter to the fabric, her gaze locking to it again as she brought the fine cloth back to her mouth.

Arthur sighed, tipping his head back and staring up at the ceiling. Why this?

Annis returned with an ornate box beneath her arm, her heavy fur wrap almost obscuring it completely. Nodding his head in a kind of greeting she returned the gesture, Arthur watching her carefully as she set the box down on the table between them.

Once she set it down she took the babe from him, sitting down with Heliose tucked against her chest, the child making no noise of complaint at the handling. "I've a gift for you, Arthur."

Brow furrowing he inclined his head in silent question, the Queen gesturing for him to open the box. Cautiously he stood and pulled the lid away, finding inside an assortment of baubles and carvings. Bewildered, he looked toward her in askance of the meaning, the red haired woman's gaze already sizing him up for whatever was to come of this.

"When I was a girl I often spent my Summers in the DuBois family's company." She started, watching as his face forcibly stayed neutral at the surprising piece of information. "Before I made certain decisions my Father had been angling for Tristan DuBois to take my hand... As a result I grew to know your Mother rather well."

She gestured vaguely toward the box again. "I gathered together mementos that she gave me that I am willing to part with. She was a dear friend, and I know she would hope that I would show you as much kindness as I can afford."

Arthur stared into the box, just absorbing the strange string of revelations.

"I would like to tell you of our days together. Would you allow that?" Annis asked, her voice even and Queenly yet somehow soft. More open than she had been as of yet to him. It made his stomach twist a bit, his nerves feeling lightly singed.

Did he want to know?

After a few moments of trepidation he nodded, taking the box and sitting back down, poking through it's contents as Annis began to speak.

The stories wandered, seemingly in a chronological order as Annis laid things out, her style of retelling matter of fact rather than any kind of romanticized reminiscing. Tales of hunting with a young Ygraine, his mother apparently an accomplished falconer, or ones where they avoided the courtship advances of lords together by riding out together in secret.

He basked in the sea of new information as Annis' voice drifted into something closer to fond, her Queenly airs eroding as she gave more into her memories.

"You've many hardships ahead of you, Arthur Pendragon." She murmured, stroking a hand down her daughter's back as the babe slept against her breast, her eyes suddenly appraising him again. "Allies are one thing to have... But there are things within that you still need to conquer before surmounting this challenge."

Frowning Arthur inclined his head in silent question again, wondering what exactly that could mean. Annis shook her head slightly, looking down at her child before continuing on.

"You're not as closed as you might think yourself to be. It is easy to see the longing in your heart, as well as the loneliness that you hold onto. You stand amongst subjects who love you sincerely but you have yet to fully see that for what it is." Arthur felt wrong-footed beneath her critique, shying away from meeting her gaze.

"...take strength from them while you can. Goodness knows how fleeting times like this can be."

The words caused an odd pang in his stomach, Merlin's smile coming to mind out of the blue. Despair crashed over him like a wave, the King staring hard into the box, tracing his gaze over the carved birds and lovingly crafted bits of jewelry. He wasn't alone. He wasn't. But he couldn't help but want for more than just that camaraderie and companionship.

He couldn't help but want someone at his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're on the brink of moving on to the next stop of Arthur's grand tour of collecting allies, but first the Winter needs to end :T


	42. Roads Converge

The Winter passed by agonizingly slow, Arthur's mood dark and darker still when his naming day came and went, the King just barely avoiding scrutiny from the members of his so called court, though he caught Morgana and Queen Annis looking at him speculatively on more than one occasion.

He put most of his energy into training Mordred, taking great pains to hone the boy's skills with a wooden parody before he would hand over a real blade. The child didn't disappoint, absorbing the knowledge quickly and moving on to true steel just after the new year came in.

The Royal Translator was getting big, Arthur fairly certain he now stood at least a head and a half taller than when he'd met him. Thankfully the child had become accustomed to the resizing of his garments, the boy obediently putting up with the tailor's prodding without even a hint of aggravation. It made Arthur feel a strange sense of pride for whatever reason.

Princess Heliose could say Arthur's name by the time warmth forced the snow and biting wind to cease, the King setting his eyes toward Mercia with something like anticipation and trepidation mixing in his gut.

"It's been long since we tread in those lands." Leon hummed softly as they both looked over the map, plotting their path to the capital carefully. It would take a weeks time to travel there if they kept good pace, Arthur wondering idly if the charms that Morgana had planned to cast over them would truly keep their doings from prying eyes.

"What did you go there for?" Mordred questioned, Arthur glancing at him as he considered the roads yet again.

'A treaty was signed... Something hard won between our people.' He shifted, sitting back and idly rubbing his fingers over his lips as he thought, gaze averted. 'At the time our allyship with Mercia was little better than a ceasefire.'

The child actually looked slightly concerned. "After what we did in Nemeth I hope we're better off than _that_."

Arthur couldn't give a definitive answer in that vein, mind wandering back to the arguments with Bayard over the months they'd spent in Rodor's court. The man was too similar to his father, too temperamental, volatile even. Facing their common enemy would be one thing, but would Bayard leave it at that? Or would he contest Arthur's right to the throne when they would be at their most vulnerable?

'There will be work to be done, Mordred... How much I cannot say.'

***

Despite the snow being driven away the Spring was loathe to provide warm weather, rain pouring down on them nearly the entire ride to Mercia. From that experience he found out just how much more convenient it was traveling in the Druid way, Morgana and Mordred charming the tents to trap and maintain heat so that their company would be better off.

'If I were superstitious I would take this as a sign of things to come.' Arthur commented bleakly, Mordred snorting softly in response. Despite their increase in numbers and resources Mordred continued to forcibly share a steed with him.

"You should take it as sign of a good growing season to come. The world does not revolve around you despite what your status might imply."

'You talk like Morgana.' He scoffed, glaring to where she rode up ahead beside Leon, a shawl thrown over her hair against the soft rain.

"Funny, she says that I talk like you." Mordred shot back, petting their steed's mane idly as he stared ahead. "I suppose I'm a product of the company I keep."

'An awful thing, that.' Arthur replied, squinting into the distance. They'd passed the Mercian border hours ago, the pins and needles that had been present as they skirted the border of Camelot in the mire that was southern Elmet had ceased and fled once the so called Perilous Lands were behind them.

Another few hours and they would be finally to their destination, a new trepidation growing and fluctuating in his breast as they carried ever onward.

"It will be fine." Mordred murmured, leaning against the stallion's neck, barely batting an eye against the rain that fell on his face. "Everything will be fine. We'll make it fine."

***

The rain miraculously let up just as they were nearing the gates, the lot of them able to head up to the citadel with a minimum of issue, the roads empty and quiet for the most part. Mordred seemed strangely distracted, staring off to their left till the moment he was forced to dismount after Arthur, the King raising an eyebrow at his behavior, a gesture that went ignored by the boy.

The reception that Bayard afforded them was a quiet, polite affair, Queen Aelfwyn the warmest thing about it. She met with Morgana with genuine excitement dancing in her eyes, her little daughters clutching at her skirts as she spoke softly to the sorceress. "You're so like your mother I would have to be blind not to know you."

Morgana seemed nervous despite having now been reacquainted with court graces, his sister bowing her head and lifting her skirts in a curtsy. "I thank you, your majesty... It's not a compliment often heard."

King Bayard and his son stood primly side by side, the Prince of Mercia running his gaze evenly over the assembled part of their party, Arthur finding his gut twisting just slightly as he wondered if he'd ever looked like that. Confident in the shadow of his father, not a worry creasing his brow.

"I assume you've garnered King Vortimer's support." Bayard stated, looking quizzically over Arthur following the comment. "You weathered the Winter there, after all."

'That is correct.' Arthur replied, forcing his attention to stay upon Bayard's face despite his notice of the amused look that was growing on his son's at Mordred's voice. 'We also have an approach planned, though I assumed you would be one to want to comb over it given your skill with strategy.'

His gamble at buttering Bayard up seemed to work to a point, the older man just barely smirking at that. "I would be remiss to not give it a once over if we are to be proper allies."

'Shall we do so now? Or is this an inopportune time?'

"There are obligations I must attend to this day, but tomorrow was afforded in anticipation of whatever I might need with you here." Bayard answered, inclining his head slightly, briefly listening to his wife coo and fuss over Morgana. "We'll hold a meeting tomorrow afternoon and do this properly."

'That is acceptable.' Arthur nodded slightly with the response, glancing toward the women and then looking back to the other King. 'We shall go get ourselves properly settled then.'

Bayard only nodded, allowing the dismissal of the lot. Arthur wanted to sigh with relief, the man's keen eye following him from the room, the burn of it so noticeable it was almost tangible. 'So far so good.'

"Would it be bad if I knocked the Prince's teeth in?" Mordred asked, clearly attempting to sound casual through whatever anger he was feeling, the King looking down at him with mild alarm.

'Why in the world would you want to do something so daft?'

"I could _hear him_." The boy grunted, shooting Arthur an exasperated look. "You _don't_ want to know what he was thinking about Morgana."

The weird flare of anger shocked him, the blonde looking back to where Morgana was walking beside Gwaine. 'A boy of that age? Not hard to guess. But no, you'd absolutely destroy our good graces. Bayard's love for his son is insurmountable.'

Mordred just cussed quietly, Arthur grimacing and simply pretending not to hear.

***

The next morning the market was bustling with activity, a stark contrast to the cloudy day before, Arthur relishing the rare sunlight as they walked through the throngs of people. Morgana, Mordred, and he had elected to go have a walk around before getting embroiled in further serious dealings. Arthur was pointedly not thinking about the ordeal that was surely ahead, memories of his arguments with Bayard months before in Nemeth pricking at him.

"Not thinking about it isn't actually happening just because you pretend it's happening." Mordred threw out, giving Arthur a look as Morgana giggled softly to his right. Arthur just huffed at the child, Mordred shrugging his shoulders at the reaction. "You're the one _handing me spoons_."

'You don't have to grumble at me like an ill tempered hermit.'

"And yet it's my pleasure to do so." The boy shot back, glancing away as his brow furrowed. He shot Morgana a brief look before yanking on the edge of Arthur's tunic. "This way, I heard there's interesting things down this way."

'Interesting things?'

"Don't pretend you're that interested in where we're walking now." The dark haired boy rolled his eyes and started away, Morgana giggling again as she looked between them, following her adoptive brother with no hesitation.

"It'll be good to see all the avenues, Mercia is distinctly different from Gawant and Caerleon." The sorceress hummed, looking around idly as they trudged onward. "You can see it's age fairly easily."

'It was built thirty years before Camelot's citadel was...' Arthur commented, Mordred saying the words belatedly as they wound through the side streets, the boy evidently on a mission.

"And when was-" Morgana didn't manage to finish her question, her gaze alighting on something or rather someone that gave her pause. "Gwen?"

Mordred looked like the cat that had gotten the cream, the boy smirking widely as the dark skinned woman turned, her curls bouncing gently with the motion as she caught sight of Morgana. Her smile was blinding, Arthur looking away as the women rushed forward without a care and embraced.

"Oh I've missed you!" Morgana sighed, tone dreamlike as Guinevere laughed.

"I've missed you too, beloved." Arthur actually wanted to duck back down the street hearing that out of Gwen's mouth, the King feeling he should be giving the two of them more privacy than was available.

"Arthur?"

And then his heart just stopped.

A hand turned him slightly, Merlin leaning into view with an expression that certainly had to be matching Arthur's own. The King belatedly realized that Guinevere and Merlin were dressed similarly, heavy clothes lined with fur against the cold weather. But why in the world were they there?

Before he could demand Mordred ask on his behalf Merlin had taken him by the biceps and pulled him into an embrace of his own, Arthur's temperature spiking as the physician hugged him. After a few seconds he had the sense to return it, ignoring the way his heart picked up.

"I had wondered when we might meet again but I never expected to meet you here." Merlin chuckled, leaning back in the hold yet still not letting Arthur go, looking him over casually as the blonde stared at him. He was utterly dumbfounded by this happenstance.

Merlin's face was slightly unshaven, a beard of a few days clearly but already coming in thick. He'd seen something of that nature once when they'd lived together but he hadn't thought much of it at the time. But now...

Thank goodness he wasn't able to speak because he certainly would've made an utter fool of himself.

"What are you doing here, Merlin?" Mordred cut in, the physician's grip on Arthur slackening further till they finally broke apart.

"Well-" He paused, looking around with a slight frown before finding whatever he was looking for, motioning for a nearby man to approach. The man was just as tall as Merlin with a thick beard and long hair, dressed in plain clothes and a heavy coat. He looked tired, his arms crossed over his chest as he moved closer. "Guinevere decided to accompany myself and my father on a journey to... look for some relatives of ours."

Arthur looked toward Morgana and Mordred, brow furrowed. They both looked as surprised as he felt, clearly he wasn't the only one who'd never met the man before them.

"Father, this is Morgana, Mordred, and Arthur." Merlin gestured to each of them in turn, the older man giving each of them an unsubtle looking over. "This is my father, Balinor."

"Nice to meet you." Balinor rumbled, voice gentle despite how sharp eyed he seemed; Arthur had a strange feeling that he was on the receiving end of a look similar to the one Thomas had given him just before he'd left the safety of Ealdor.

"The pleasure is ours, I'm sure." Morgana said carefully, still partially holding onto Gwen, the women hip to hip. Arthur felt the urge to look away again, the two looking comfortable despite the publicness of the display.

After a beat or two of silence Merlin chuckled awkwardly, pressing a hand to Arthur's back gently before gesturing toward their left. "Shall we catch up while we walk? We were just doing some shopping..."

"I'll do you one better," Morgana cut in, smirking as she leaned a bit and bumped the side of her head against Gwen's lightly. "You come back with us and share a meal before Mordred and Arthur have their meeting."

To Arthur's surprise Merlin actually looked excited at the notion, but the expression was toned down as he looked toward his father, clear askance there.

Balinor said nothing and for all Arthur could tell didn't even shift his expression in any way. Perhaps it was his inaction that was the response? Either way Merlin suddenly was beaming again, the physician nudging Arthur into moving. "Well all right then, let's go!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Made a point of doing this chapter over a couple of days instead of the one sitting one chapter deal I usually do, I wanted to try and push the length a little bit just so we could cover more ground... I really wanted to get to this part haha


	43. Omission and Affection

Merlin had nearly worked himself into a tizzy with how pleased he was as they walked up the avenue toward the citadel, the back of his hand brushing Arthur's with every stride forward, the warlock glancing toward the King every now and again.

He was elated to find he was catching Arthur's gaze every time he looked.

He couldn't believe that they'd run across each other in such a manner... With all that had been going on he'd not even entertained a thought in that direction. Merlin had been savoring the memory of his face in the muted dawn-light, the ridiculous man holding his hand captive and smiling at him. The warlock wondered if Arthur even remembered that moment.

The citadel was something to behold, the physician never having been inside such a large structure before and it shocking him slightly as they walked through the halls, Guinevere giggling as Morgana murmured salaciously in her ear the entire way. His father seemed unaffected by both the scenery and the activity, his expression something like stone as he walked nearly in step with the Druid boy behind them.

Merlin tried not to worry over his seemingly unresponsive behavior, knowing full well by now that Balinor wouldn't have accompanied them at all if he had not wanted to do so.

Once they were all ensconced in the royal guest chambers Morgana went about arranging for the offered meal, speaking softly to a servant at the doorway before closing the door and picking up her skirts, hurrying back to her lover with a wide smile on her face. "You two _must_ tell me what you've gotten up to. I haven't heard anything in ages!"

Arthur had settled down at the head of the table and Merlin had unthinkingly sat at his right, Mordred raising his eyebrows at the warlock briefly from his seat across the table. Briefly Merlin mistook the look for curiosity, it dawning on him a moment later what the boy was really trying to get across. 'Quiet, you. Don't meddle.'

'Try and stop me.' Mordred returned, smirking as he settled back with arms crossed, Arthur glancing between them briefly as he sucked in an irritated breath. A moment later Mordred rolled his eyes and waved a dismissive hand at the King. "Oh do shut up."

Guinevere giggled softly, her hand entwined with Morgana's as his poor Father pointedly ignored the bold goings on, the bearded man beside him drumming his fingertips idly on the arms of his chair.

"Well... You see..." Merlin cleared his throat quietly and gestured to Balinor to start. "My Father..." He looked at the older man carefully, the set of his shoulders slightly worrying. "My Father returned to visit my Mother... He'd been away a long time, evading persecution since before I was born..."

Morgana made a noise of surprise, nodding slightly in understanding when Balinor briefly cast his gaze on her. "So you came back to a surprise."

He felt himself turn red at the statement, it earning a bit of a chuckle out of Balinor despite the clear discomfort he was feeling being so looked at. "A welcome one."

Merlin felt the urge to press his hands over his face as it only flared hotter at the subtle words of pride the Dragonlord had offered. Forcing himself not to duck he caught Arthur looking at him with a strange expression, something like melancholy mixed with happiness. "A-as I was saying... He came back since the source..." He floundered slightly, not wanting to address that particular fact for fear of hurting Arthur. "...in any case, we finally got to know each other."

The warlock paused, struggling with how to relate the next part, feeling wrong-footed despite the benignness of it. "A few months ago Freya returned to the Isle of the Blessed, and we'd been talking about seeking out what remnants of family we would find... And Father had solid information about one relative that's in Mercia... So here we are."

"I came along for fun." Gwen added, smiling widely as Merlin avoided looking at either of the Pendragon siblings, Mordred's smirk even wider than before.

"Freya did _what_?" The pale woman questioned, leaning forward and giving him a baffled and frankly worried look for his trouble. "Is she all right? Surely she's-"

"She's fine, Morgana." He cut in, face regaining it's redness at the scrutiny. "We're fine... We just..." All he could do was shrug helplessly. "We dissolved our bonds to one another... It didn't work out."

The sharp breath from Arthur didn't exactly come as a surprise to him but Merlin was at once struck with how remarkable it was that he hadn't culled the reaction, remembering how well he could feign disinterest. The King looked briefly embarrassed at the attention it'd garnered, Merlin smiling slightly as Arthur reigned himself in.

"Anyway!" He started, shaking his head as he turned his attention more toward Morgana. "I've heard you lot have been up to a fair many exciting things."

Morgana pursed her lips, rolling her eyes a little. "Aside from the banishment of that wretched thing? Not really."

The knock on the door interrupted anything further for the moment, a stream of servants bustling in as Mordred called out for them to come in, setting out an unexpectedly varied spread of food, Merlin's stomach making an eager noise in response to the heady scent of roasted meat.

***

Arthur's body language screamed reluctance as he made to bid them farewell for the time being, he and Mordred finally being called upon to meet with the King. Their entourage had appeared in the doorway, Leon flanked by two men he didn't recognize before a fourth head poked into view, the man grinning from ear to ear.

"Merlin!" He crowed, sliding passed the tallest of them to get inside, seizing the warlock by the shoulders and shaking him, Merlin unable to resist the laugh that came out of him at the treatment, clapping his hands the man's biceps in a friendly manner.

"I didn't know we were expecting such favorable company, Princess!" Gwaine shot at the King, waggling his eyebrows as Arthur's expression immediately morphed into a worn down scowl. "You should've told me!"

"It wasn't exactly planned, Gwaine. We happened upon them in the lower town..." Merlin chuckled, shoving him playfully as they let go of one another. "I'm shocked he hasn't chucked you from a window yet for that cheek."

"I think he likes us that way." The scruffy sellsword replied, winking at him and earning another laugh. "Keeps him from getting too high and mighty."

Arthur huffed and rolled his eyes, Mordred laughing suddenly at whatever the man must've been thinking. Or saying? It was funny to see how the boy's relationship had evolved since their time in Ealdor. It was almost familial.

"Sire." Leon quietly cut in, reminding them again that Arthur had places to be other than to be teased into oblivion. Arthur nodded in response, waving his hand at him before slowly approaching Merlin, his expression saying something interesting that made the warlock smile fondly. He extended his arm to Merlin, evidently playing at a farewell.

Merlin took it regardless, squeezing just below the crook of the King's arm. "I'll see you when you return, Arthur. We've got time to spare."

Arthur looked surprised, coloring just slightly before he nodded in response, letting go and heading for the door without another look back. Gwaine whistled low as the doors closed, punching Merlin lightly in the shoulder.

"Shocking. Truly shocking." The sellsword commented, smirking as he made for one of the now empty chairs at the table. "So catch me up, my friend, what've I gone and missed?"

Morgana snorted and rolled her eyes as Gwaine flopped into one of the chairs, Balinor staring at him with an inscrutable expression. His Father was still a terrible mystery, Merlin having an awful time getting much out of him about his earlier life aside from his time as a Dragonlord and his reason for being absent for the better part of his life. "Well... Gwaine, this is my Father, Balinor."

"Pleasure I'm sure." The scruffy man said, giving a little wave. Balinor muttered a quiet return of the sentiment but offered little else, pointedly avoiding looking at the twosome that continued to be practically cuddled together at the table. "What's your business in Mercia?"

"I was just about to ask for the truth." Morgana commented, fixing her eyes on Merlin again, her thumb rubbing idly over the back of Gwen's hand, the woman in question resting her head on the Lady's shoulder. "Or I suppose the whole truth, anyway."

Clearing his throat awkwardly Merlin made for his chair, settling down as he gathered his thoughts. "Well... It was all true. Just one word was really left out."

"Really." The sorceress intoned, looking unconvinced.

Merlin cringed inwardly. "Fine. A little more than that. But still."

"Get on with it." Gwen murmured, looking amused. "I don't want to have to tell her on my own. I'll probably forget something. It's _your_ quest, after all."

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his mouth before flicking his gaze toward his Father. "...my Father is the last Dragonlord. We're headed to the Tomb Ashkanar... A dragon egg is said to be inside."

Morgana's mouth hung open, Gwaine's brow furrowed into tight creases, the collective shock not unexpected for him. It'd been his own reaction all those months ago.

"A... A real...?" For once the sorceress was at a loss for words, making Merlin chuckle awkwardly before moving forward with things.

"Yeah, a real dragon egg." Pursing his lips he fidgeted with the edges of his sleeves. "Thing is it's in danger. A treasure hunting pillock thinks he's got some kind of rights to it since his Father had part of the key to get in."

Balinor grumbled something under his breath, briefly drawing attention that he awkwardly shifted beneath, the bearded man drumming his fingertips again.

"Only a part?" Morgana finally pressed, frowning slightly. "Meaning he can't get in, correct?"

"One would hope but my Father and I really don't want to take chances that he might find another way inside... Aside from that..." He shifted in his seat, vaguely gesturing toward their packs. "When I was on the Isle I was given the other two pieces... Iseldir sent the piece his family has kept there because of that man... and the other..."

Merlin paused, anger briefly lighting in his gut. "The usurpers in Camelot have evidently been picking through the valuables, looking for things to try and bribe Nimueh with. They sent the piece that was there at some point. Nimueh felt that they were safer in my hands... Now I know why."

Balinor scoffed at that, the lot of them staring at him in confusion. "I suppose she feels that serves as some bit of atonement."

"What?"

The older man huffed, raking his fingers through his beard in a gesture that Merlin had learned heralded anxiety. "She was partially at fault for this mess. Actions she took ruined many things in this world. I'm sure she thinks she's absolving herself little by little by doing right by people for once."

"...you're going to have to be more specific than that, I think." Gwaine hummed, looking bemused by everything that'd been said. "Or are Dragonlords supposed to be cryptic and moody?"

Merlin sighed, giving the man a look of aggravation. " _Gwaine_."

The sellsword shrugged, leaning back in his chair. "Honestly Merlin, what did you expect? I can't give a King proper respect, why would you think I'd behave otherwise?"

"Wishful thinking." He grunted, rubbing at his temple as his Father scowled down the table at the other bearded man. "It would be... nice, Father, if you were more detailed."

Balinor made an irritated noise, clenching his hands briefly around the ends of the armrests before adjusting how he sat, his arms crossed over his chest as he stared down the table at the four of them. "She's the cause for my exile and the death of thousands because she wouldn't tell Uther Pendragon _no_. Is that better?"

Merlin felt his stomach churn, his mind trying to parse the new information and align it with what he knew of the imposing High Priestess. What in the world had she done?

***

It took nearly two hours to pry further details from his Father about the time before Camelot's purge, the bulk of it coming when Morgana had become fed up with his skittish behavior, the woman slamming her hands to the table top and demanding he do right by them and tell them about the rest.

It seemed that Gaius had been equally vague, Morgana and Merlin learning more about recent magical history than they'd ever gotten from those they'd apprenticed under. Admittedly it was a horrid thing to speak of, but still...

Merlin couldn't help but feel angry for having been kept in the dark.

It was hard to act unaffected when Arthur and Mordred returned, the Druid boy immediately catching himself up whether anyone wanted him to or not, the look he started giving him after a few minutes being present one of sympathy surprisingly enough.

Both he and Arthur seemed strung out, undoubtedly whatever their meeting had pertained to draining the pair of them. Despite the clearly shared feeling they were exhibiting it in different ways, Mordred sagging tiredly against Arthur's hip whilst the King stood straight backed and solemn, his arms crossed over his chest.

Morgana clicked her tongue at the behavior, sliding from her seat and ushering the pair toward the table. "It's nearly supper time, Bayard shouldn't have kept you two so long."

"It was fine." Mordred managed, Arthur's brows drawing tighter together as the boy's voice came out noticeably rougher than usual. Instead of sitting himself he picked the boy up and forcibly deposited him into a chair, going to pour out a goblet of water and brushing off Morgana's silent offer to do it instead, gaze fixed resolutely on what he was doing.

"You're both so stubborn." The pale woman muttered, shaking her head as she crossed the floor, petting a hand over the crown of Mordred's head as she made for the door. Arthur deposited the goblet before the boy a few seconds later, the child muttering his thanks.

It was strangely domestic, Merlin thought, gaze flicking between the three. He'd certainly missed much since Arthur had left.

It made him feel fond and sad all at once, a sensation rarely experienced. The longing that had built in his chest burning hotly as he allowed the feeling to linger.

The abrupt clank of the emptied goblet against the wood brought him out of his thoughts, Mordred shooting him a tired look. 'Pine, pine, pine. Are your days spent ever doing anything else, Emrys?'

'Quiet.' Merlin shot back, frowning deeply. 'You'll understand when you're older how complicated such things are.'

Mordred rolled his eyes, looking briefly to Arthur before summoning the jug of water to him and making his magic refill his cup. 'Complicated this is not. You should see all the spoons I've gotten.'

'What in the world-'

'If you don't get him out of here this evening I won't forgive you. Do you know how hard it is to sleep with him waxing poetic over your stupid eyes? Or your ears? Do you have any idea how much he thinks about your _ears_? He's a soppy mess.' Mordred snickered quietly, Morgana flicking his ear on the way by, clearly figuring he was up to no good, Merlin's face feeling on fire.

'You've got to stop treating your elders this way.'

***

Merlin is a bundle of nerves the rest of the evening, his Father quickly begging off as soon as the meal was done, the Dragonlord politely thanking Morgana and Arthur for their hospitality before allowing himself to be shown back out of the citadel by Sir Leon, Mordred soon after stomping to bed with an exaggerated yawn his only farewell.

Gwaine surprisingly made a getaway as well, citing how he owed the other two knights that Merlin had briefly seen earlier a round down at the tavern.

With just the four of them they indulged in wine and as much small talk they could muster, Arthur and Merlin briefly sharing a look over the absolutely ridiculous levels of affection going on between Gwen and Morgana. He couldn't honestly blame them but it didn't make it any less awkward to bear witness to.

"I think I'd like to go to sleep." Morgana commented, nudging Guinevere gently as she stood from her chair, offering her hand in askance of a very different kind. The dark woman flushed and giggled at the pale sorceress, taking the offer without a lick of shame till she remembered that Arthur and Merlin were still there, stammering as she stood and was dragged toward the door.

"I'll just- We'll be- Oh goodness, Merlin, I'll just see you tomorrow morning!" Guinevere pushed out, laughing loudly as Morgana said something surely awful from out in the corridor, the warlock thanking his lucky stars that it had been far too quiet to parse.

Merlin wasn't sure if he was thankful that it was now just the two of them or not.

It looked like Arthur couldn't really decide either, though with the girls gone it seemed he was at least more relaxed, his head lolling against the back of the chair as he stretched out his legs beneath the table.

"You were quiet tonight." Merlin comments softly, earning a rather sarcastic sort of look in response, the dark haired man chuckling at the reaction. "I could tell you were keeping commentary to a minimum for Mordred's sake."

At that Arthur colored, looking away briefly before shrugging, idly drumming one set of fingertips against the armrest as the other set scratched at his chin, the King evidently attempting to be nonchalant. It made him smile, the warlock slowly leaning over and nudging him. "Don't pretend. You've really become quite considerate."

The blonde man briefly looked at his hand like it was something utterly foreign, his cheeks coloring further before he gave Merlin a look that could only be read as a sort of fond confusion.

The feeling was mutual.

Suddenly Arthur pushed his chair back, straightening his clothes carefully before giving Merlin another odd look, beckoning for him to follow suit. The warlock acquiesced, sliding from his seat and trailing after him, the King sliding on a coat before grabbing Merlin's own up and tossing it at him.

They ended up outside on the ramparts, the cool night air still holding Winter's edge, causing them to drift close together, the backs of their hands brushing against one another as they'd done that afternoon in the market.

In a moment of madness he nearly took Arthur's hand, but the spike of courage fled as soon as it was acknowledged, his index finger reaching and brushing against it's counterpart before Merlin halted his progress.

Eventually they slowed to a stop, loitering at the wall's edge, the warlock eventually finding that they were leaning closer and closer together as time drew on, their shoulders pressed comfortably together as they looked up at the stars.

Despite all odds they ended up closer still, their foreheads touching as they leaned against one another, Merlin's heart hammering in his chest as though he was going to be well and truly undone by the littlest gesture.

It was unendingly lovely and infuriatingly chaste, Arthur meeting his gaze shyly before it flitted back up to peer at the dark sky.

What sweet torture it was to feel this way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been a while since there was a Merlin POV chapter :Dd Hope you enjoyed it, because we're getting very close to the end! Only a few chapters to go!


	44. Goodbye

Arthur's mind was alight with a thousand thoughts, his heart skipping a beat every so often as he combed over the events of the night before, staring at the ceiling as though it might offer some insight.

Merlin and he had stayed together till the wee hours of the morning, the King and the physician enjoying each other's companionship in the most chaste way possible... And yet... And yet...

His pulse was quick as though he was reviewing a night of lust the morning after, his fingers clutching the blankets tighter as he thought of how they'd stood together, foreheads touching, on the ramparts underneath the stars.

How could Morgana and Guinevere behave as they did when just those simple things had Arthur reeling? He felt like he'd run for miles.

Arthur still didn't quite know how he'd gotten through the second farewell, the pair of them embracing for a long while before either made even the slightest move to let go.

Merlin had headed down into the town when dawn had begun, Arthur lingering in the courtyard for long after he couldn't see him.

***

When he woke he was surprised to find that Guinevere was standing beside Morgana in his chambers, the two fussing over Mordred for the moment, the topic appearing to be how the child had grown since last Gwen had seen him. When Arthur stepped into the room however, wearing yesterday's clothes and looking still disheveled from sleep they halted almost immediately, the pair turning pink for whatever reason.

'Is there something wrong?' He asked, brow raising as Mordred shrugged instead of posing the question out loud, the boy smacking the back of his hand against Morgana's hip. The woman glared at him, tweaking his ear for his trouble as Guinevere giggled quietly behind her.

"Good, you're up... I've..." For some strange reason Morgana seemed to be floundering her words, slowly approaching the King. "Well, Guinevere and I were talking..."

'Oh no.' He thought dryly, Mordred laughing despite how he'd not really meant to direct it any which way.

"... I'd like to-" She stopped, shaking her head some and fixing Arthur with an even look, more herself then than she'd been at the start of whatever she was on about.

"I'm going to accompany Guinevere on her travels for a little while."

Oh.

Somehow he felt he should've guessed, the reunited lovers surely thought it unthinkable to part again. It was understandable, reasonable even.

He felt a little deflated by the thought of Morgana leaving, not having realized just how much he had been enjoying having her around till that very moment.

Drawing himself up he smiled at her, offering his hands to her, Morgana smiling back as she took them and squeezed gently. "I knew you'd understand."

Arthur shrugged, looking down where their hands were clasped together before letting go and pulling Morgana into a hug, saying all he could without words. She hugged him tightly, sending her own message through.

***

The time they spent in Mercia felt long for how short it really was, Arthur spending the two months putting all his focus into training with his Knights and working on their approach, King Bayard sending and receiving several missives from the other monarchs, keeping them as up to date as was safe.

One day a missive was received that was not from any of those before, a messenger wearing Essetir's colors and crest hand delivering it to the Mercian King.

King Cenred's spies had caught a whiff of what motions were being made.

He wanted Arthur to come to the capital to treat.

"That seems suspect." Bayard said, his tone almost conversational as he and Arthur sat together in the throne room, the scroll on the table between them.

Cenred's reputation was nothing to scoff at despite how barbaric he behaved. The fact that he was making a request such as that was unheard of... He had only managed a real alliance with Kent, and even that was tenuous. To rebuff the advances of his usurpers months before and then ask to treat with the heir? It was beyond imagining.

'I would agree.' He replied, rubbing a finger over his lips as he considered the paper. 'But considering his actions before this... I think it may be worth the risk.'

Mordred shifted in his seat, peering at the paper himself as though he could discern whether it came with ill intent.

"I'll provide some of my own knights to accompany you. Perhaps if he has any ungainly thoughts he'll think twice with my colors in sight as well." Bayard stated, the offer not lost on Arthur for what it truly meant. He'd wondered at Bayard's intentions but with this it seemed he was truly sincere in his intentions to support Arthur's cause.

'Thank you, I appreciate the forethought.'

"When will you leave?" The Mercian King finally asked after a moment, scratching at his beard unthinkingly as he looked over the pair of them.

'In a few days. Please send word of our acceptance.' He requested carefully, slowly standing. 'I've much to prepare.'

Bayard only nodded, rolling the missive back up and handing it off to his servant who stood nearby. "Try to avoid a fight. He'll surely still be of poor temper despite his inviting you."

Arthur smirked slightly as he stepped away, heading for the door. 'I'll do my level best.'

***

They departed two mornings later, Mordred for once riding with Gwaine (purely out of spite, the argument they'd gotten in that morning one that Arthur was going to cite as the herald to the oncoming storm that was the boy's moody years), the day warmer than any before it and the air calm, the clouds above fluffy and broken up. There would surely be no rain to hinder them from reaching Cenred's kingdom in good time.

King Bayard's men were of an older age than the remnants of his own, the knights choosing to regale the younger set with grand tales of wars, beasts, and beauties they'd lived to see.

Over the next few days Arthur got to see more of Leon's magical aptitude than he'd gotten to see in their entire time together since Morgana had begun to teach him, the red haired man lighting their campfires and summoning things to his hands as though he'd been doing it all his life. He seemed quietly proud of his newfound skills and Arthur found himself offering more than a few words of praise in response to it.

"Thank you, sire." Leon managed, looking bashful as he worked the sharpening stone he'd just summoned into his palm over the edge of his blade. It was a rare moment, an expression that was rarely visited upon the older man. He was an accomplished knight and typically took the praise given to his swordplay with only a nod. This reaction made him look young.

'Isn't it strange... We're back together on the Essetir border.' Arthur mused, resting his chin against his knuckles. 'It seems so long ago.'

"I am glad that time is behind us." Leon replied, voice soft. "I'm glad I was able to see you again... To stand with you again."

Arthur smiled faintly at that, clapping a hand to Leon's shoulder as he got up. 'You're a true friend, Leon.'

"...thank you, Arthur."

***

Mordred clambered onto Gwaine's horse the next day, the Royal Translator still feeling tetchy despite having been dutifully continuing to lend his voice when needed.

That was fine, it wasn't as though he needed a voice to ride.

They were still a day away from reaching the capital, Arthur's nerves beginning to work up at the thought of having to deal with Cenred's attitude and unpredictable temperament. He'd seen him for the first and last time shortly after he'd taken the throne, his Father attempting to treat with him properly before giving up the endeavor, Cenred's domineering attitude destroying what chances it might've had.

Suddenly the sound of hooves that were out of pace with theirs came to his attention, his head snapping up and scanning the area around them, spotting the oncoming riders and nearly crying out in alarm, the attempted sound strangled in his throat as pain seared across his neck.

"Arthur!" Mordred cried, the boy leaning forward in the saddle with fear etched clearly across his face. Arthur gritted his teeth, looking at the boy a moment before he cast a hand toward Gwaine, signalling for him to turn from the group and head for safety. The sellsword grimaced and nodded, turning his horse skillfully as Mordred screamed his name again.

Pulling his sword from his scabbard he signaled for the others to do the same, shooting a look to Leon as they turned properly to face whoever was coming for them, the ginger haired man's expression stony as he called out to the other men to make ready.

Arthur had fully expected the war-band to crash into them like a wave to the shore but surprisingly their fevered gait slowed, his heart dropping into his stomach as he saw who lead them, her hair wild and her eyes blazing with glee.

"Did you think I wouldn't see your game?" Morfydd called out, smiling wickedly as she gestured to the lot of them. "Did you think you could escape your _destiny_ , Arthur Pendragon?"

The King grit his teeth and sat up tall in his saddle, grip tight on his sword as he stared down the source of all his woes, the Rhegedian Princess laughing loudly when he did not reply.

"Your time is at an end." She purred, pulling her own sword from it's sheath. "Camelot will see you next upon a _pike_."

Arthur didn't wait for her to finish her sentence, signalling his men and then charging forth, blade held high.

The battle consumed him utterly, mere impressions filtering through of what was going on around him. It was not unlike the battles he'd been party to before until magic came into the fray, the smell of charred flesh reaching him as he clashed with Morfydd directly.

The rightful King of Camelot fought the Witch tooth and nail, clashing with her again and again until something gave, his sword crossing over her chest and leaving behind red.

She shrieked like the most tumultuous windstorm, worse somehow than the fae had done beneath Mordred's desperate incanting, Arthur's horse rearing and throwing him completely. He managed to not impale himself by flinging his sword away, gasping sharply as he struggled to regain his bearings.

"Pendragon..." Morfydd seethed, one arm crossed over her wound, the other outstretched as he raised himself up on his hands and knees, the sensation suddenly washing through him that he was truly staring death in the face that very moment.

Her eyes lit with gold and he heard someone scream.

Then he knew nothing more.


	45. Last Revelation

Sound is what creeps in first, then touch.

Someone is holding him, begging him to wake up. His entire body hurts and he knows without trying that moving much will be an immense feat. But perhaps he can manage his eyes, that shouldn't be too terrible...

With great effort he manages to get them open, it taking a second or two to focus and register properly just who he was seeing.

"Arthur!" Merlin cried, his smile brighter than the Sun even as he blinked back tears. He tried to smile back, hoping that for Merlin's sake he managed it. "Oh Arthur, you..."

Suddenly Merlin closed the meager distance between them, kissing him gently as he curled his hand around one of Arthur's.

It's warm and wonderful, the moment surpassing all of his fantasies. Merlin's lips are so soft, Arthur feels like he could go through the pain all over again if Merlin would promise him that there would be more in the future. Heat builds inside him and rises up, his heart racing...

What comes unexpectedly is the sound of hissing, their kiss breaking as smoke rises in white curls off Arthur's neck. Merlin's eyes instantly light with gold and the King finds no fear or anxiety rushing to the fore, only the weight of confirmation. "Don't worry, I've-"

"I knew it." He whispered, voice awful sounding from more than a year's worth of disuse, cupping Merlin's cheek as he forces the man weakly to look him in the eye. Belatedly he realizes no pain comes to raze his throat to ashes again.

Merlin just gapes at him, the color fading back to blue. "A-Arthur..."

"What?"

Tears suddenly are rolling down the warlock's cheeks, his hand coming up and carding through Arthur's hair. "Arthur you can talk..."

He can't help but laugh at that, leaning into the touch tiredly. "Oh is that all."

"You absolute cabbagehead! I thought she'd- I thought my protection spell hadn't..." Merlin sniffled, leaning in close and peppering his face in kisses before properly pressing their lips together again.

"I thought I'd lost you." Merlin whispers when they part, the dark haired man resting his forehead against Arthur's. The night months before in Mercia comes to mind and the King smiles a bit wider than he'd been able to before.

"How did you know?" He finally manages, the hoarseness of his voice grating on his ears. "You can't have just-"

"Morgana." Merlin replied simply, adjusting his hold on the King. "She had a vision that Morfydd had found you out and was running you down... I used my magic to get us here..." The daft man looks actually woeful as he continues. "I should've gotten here sooner."

Arthur scoffs and tips his head up as much as he can bear, brushing their lips together again.

"My hero." He murmurs, the words coming out sincere rather than the sarcastic he would've preferred. Merlin laughs, seeming to pick up on that regardless.

"My King."

***

Once Merlin finally stops cradling him in his lap he finds that there is very little to deal with by way of fallout, somehow Arthur coming out as the most injured man by far. Merlin's healing abilities saved many men from dealing with the harrowing care of burn wounds with his magic, the lesser wounds being wrapped and tended to in the natural manner to conserve energy.

Despite the protection charm Merlin had secretly cast upon him months before, Morfydd's magic had tore into him with her dying intentions, all her hatred poured into the spell making it more potent than ever. Merlin had healed what he could but there were still broken ribs to contend with and a few lingering slashes on his shoulders.

"We'll go to Ealdor." Merlin states, sitting beside Arthur's pallet with Mordred lingering on the other side. "Your daft plans to go to Cenred's den of lies will have to wait."

"I told him it was a stupid idea." Mordred muttered, earning a disgusted sound from Arthur.

"You did _not_. You just stomped around for days like a bad tempered calf."

"Would that make you an actual ass in your farm animal daydreams?" The boy cut back, sticking his tongue out at the blonde man who looked like he would throw Mordred if he could actually stand. "Ah yes, King of the Asses! Lord of all Assdom!"

"Pot meet kettle." Arthur grunted, turning his head away and ignoring the way Mordred squawked.

"You both need to stop." Merlin cut in flatly before the Druid boy could escalate things further, narrowing his eyes in warning. The boy's jaw clicked shut as he crossed his arms, tapping his foot in a silent assertion of his bad mood.

"Am I interrupting?" Morgana asked as she poked her head in the tent, her fingers curling around the rucked back fabric. Merlin had fussed over it's construction, magicking the cloth to expand to suit his needs.

Evidently Merlin needed a cottage's worth of space.

"Not at all." Merlin replied, chuckling softly as a little white something poked it's head around the flap as well. The permission effectively granted, Morgana stepped inside, the white creature clutching onto her shoulder like a bird might've.

"What is that?" Arthur asked after a beat or two, almost having forgotten his newly returned freedom. It still was weak and rough, his throat raw with disuse despite Merlin's healing efforts. Morgana gasped in response, putting a hand to the creature as she halted, staring at him as though he'd grown another head.

"He speaks!"

"Well spotted." He grunted, reaching up and pinching at the bridge of his nose, gritting his teeth as his aches made themselves known. "Answer the question, please."

Morgana laughs a bit despite his irritation (or perhaps because of it), the odd thing clambering onto her hand when she offered it. "Don't you know a dragon when you see one?"

Arthur took his hand away and studied the supposed dragon, it flapping it's tiny wings and making a weird squeaking sound. Surely this was just some sort of... winged lizard? His Father had told him all about the massive things, there was no way there was one this small... And why in the world would Morgana be toting one around? "You're having me on."

"You know I thought your voice would be much deeper." She hummed, Arthur glaring at her only to get a smirk in return. "So... When did it happen?"

Arthur felt himself go red just as Merlin did, Mordred making a disgusted noise finally after his lengthy silence. "I should've known."

The three looked to him, Mordred looking back at them as though they were all simple. "Only true love could break hate magic."

Arthur opened his mouth to object but then closed it immediately, just throwing his arm over his face so he wouldn't have to see Morgana's reaction.

The cackle was loud and he heard her clap her hands. "Finally."

"What do you mean finally!?" Merlin squawked, sounding like he was dying of embarrassment himself.

"Merlin you weren't subtle when you were courting Freya, you were even less subtle when you started after Arthur. I thought you were going to combust after we left Mercia!"

"Oh get out, the lot of you!" The warlock groaned, Arthur hearing him hurriedly get to his feet just before he dared to take a peek at what was happening. The dark haired man had begun ushering Mordred and Morgana toward the exit, his cheeks deep red. "Go gossip elsewhere!"

After they were effectively banished Merlin did something with his hands and the air shimmered, the man turning slowly and looking at Arthur just as his eyes had begun to fade back to blue. "That's enough of that."

For once he took a good, long look at Merlin in his entirety, Arthur noticing little changes that had gone overlooked before in his excitement just to be near the other man. He'd gotten broader, his face less sharp to match. The beard he'd had in Mercia had been clearly left to it's own devices, but he had to admit it was still good looking, his hair having grown out as well.

"...and Morgana says _I'm_ the unsubtle one." Merlin huffed out, grinning at Arthur as the King bit his lip, letting his arm fall back down over his eyes.

"I've no idea what you mean."

"Oh, surely not." Merlin teased, Arthur peeking out at him again before beckoning for him to come back. For whatever reason the gesture made Merlin smile, the warlock complying almost immediately. "What is it?"

Arthur didn't answer, he just hooked a hand into Merlin's tunic and guided him down into a kiss, the King sighing happily as the other man obliged the whim. When it broke the warlock stared at him oddly, pursing his full lips briefly as though he wanted to say something.

"What?"

His eyes twinkled a bit as his lips drew up into a shy smile. "So you love me?"

Arthur gaped a moment, his whole body feeling aflame at the question, the warlock tracing his thumb cheekily over his bottom lip so that he'd shut his mouth. The King gave him an aggravated look, gripping his tunic briefly before letting his head fall back with a loud huff. "So you love me, he says!" He repeated in a flat tone of voice, rolling his eyes. "Devious _arse_."

The handsome physician just laughed at him, smirking as he leaned in and rubbed his beardy chin against Arthur's stubble roughened cheek, laying a kiss in his wake. "I think someone is deflecting."

" _You're_ deflecting." He grunted, not knowing what to do with himself after such a bizarre bit of attention, looking to Merlin frankly like he'd gone and started speaking like a snake. Merlin's eyes were narrowed with joy, his smile so wide it looked like it hurt as he watched Arthur. It made the awkward anxiety that had built in him ebb, and he breathed out a sigh in response, picking at the blanket as he tried to be more forthcoming. "It's a stupid question."

Merlin's shoulders sagged and he rubbed a hand over his face, chuckling softly as Arthur tried to parse the reaction. He seemed... disappointed?

"I was worried." The dark haired man murmured, slowly unveiling his face as he worked through the thought. "I thought maybe I'd be too late, that you would've lost what you were feeling after you moved on."

Arthur grit his teeth, heart hammering as suddenly he felt strangely consumed by the urge to hold Merlin, it bizarrely infuriating that he really couldn't do that with how things currently stood. He should say something... If Merlin could admit that much he should be able to.

"...I tried." He finally pushed out, not sure he really wanted to admit it. "It wasn't reasonable of me to hope you'd just suddenly change your mind."

The warlock seemed to find no offense with the confession, just nodding slightly as he settled down more comfortably beside Arthur, watching him carefully as though he thought there was more. Maybe there was.

Swallowing he squirmed slightly where he lay, the King picking at the blanket again absently. "Obviously it didn't work." He hedged, glancing over at Merlin and then away again, his attentiveness somehow making the King's courage fade. Merlin had broken the hex on him with such a thing, why was it so hard to actually say it?

"Merlin..."

Unexpectedly Merlin leaned back over him, hovering over him with a soppy look on his face. "Yes, Arthur?"

"I love you." He breathed out, his heart surely to burst from his chest in a few moments time; surely there was only so much it could take!

Arthur's swallowed hard as the warlock nudged their noses together, his own fingertips digging into the blanket.

"I love you too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, take this from my hands I can't look at it any more otherwise I'll write pages and pages more of them being disgustingly into each other.


	46. Insight

"You nearly died." Mordred murmured, tone flat.

The cart rolls on, Arthur laid out in the bed of it with the Druid boy sat at his side. Merlin was riding ahead of the group on Arthur's own steed, Morgana and Gwen perched on Gwaine's, the sellsword and Merlin's Father settled in the front of the cart together.

The tiny white thing- _dragon_ , he corrected mentally -had decided that Arthur's stomach was an appropriate bed to be had after she had grown tired of riding up on Balinor's shoulders. The King really didn't know what to do in the face of that odd choice, the beast small enough not to bother him with her weight. It was too much trouble to remove her, he figured.

"Yes, Mordred, I'm well aware." He replied, forcing away the urge to make light of it, knowing full well that the boy wouldn't handle it well.

"You sent me _away_." Mordred continued, his voice still low with the edge of a hiss to it. "What were you thinking!?"

"Mordred..." Arthur rubbed his eyes, sighing heavily. Childish bravado was yet again was poking it's awful head up from the depths. "Are you really doing this?"

"I could've _helped you_!" The boy hissed, practically bearing his teeth, thankfully lacking the glassy eyed stare he'd been carrying on with hours before. The last thing he needed was Mordred crying.

The King groaned, pressing his fingers against his eyes as he tried not to start loudly scolding the boy. "...I know."

"I could- what?" Apparently he'd caught the Druid off guard with that, his brows furrowing over the response.

"I know you could've helped." Arthur repeated, rubbing his throat idly as he stared pointedly up at the sky. "But you don't understand, do you?"

"What?"

"I couldn't risk you. You've taken the choice away from me more times than I'd have liked, so I didn't give you the chance." Aithusa made a small sound in her sleep, drawing his gaze downward briefly to peer at the strange little thing. "There's no question of your abilities, Mordred, but..."

He clenched his teeth, reaching to rub at his eyes again. The odd feelings he'd been dealing with swelled briefly, mingling with a strange nostalgia. "You're incredibly important to me and I couldn't bear to lose you. I couldn't let you stay even if it might've given us a better chance."

The boy looked utterly dumbfounded by the declaration, his mouth agape and his hands fisted in the folds of his cloak. Arthur almost felt pleased about the shock he'd induced.

"Y-you _idiot_!" Mordred choked out, the shock dissolving alarmingly into tearful hysterics. "You absolute moron I'm the one taking care of _you_ not the other way around!!"

Arthur opened his mouth to speak but he found himself wheezing, his ribs protesting mightily when the boy threw himself down onto Arthur's chest and burst into tears, Aithusa making a sharp sound of complaint along with the King.

Eyes watering from the pain he bit back his complaints, rubbing the Druid boy's back as he muttered out soothing nonsense, just trying to get him to calm down. He hated that he'd caused him so much stress.

Flicking his gaze up Arthur caught sight of Balinor peering down at the two of them with something like sympathy in his eyes, Gwaine quietly chuckling beside him.

***

They reached Ealdor with no issue before dusk, the strangeness of his return not lost on him.

Merlin guided them through the woodlands to his own home, the warlock quick to hop from horseback to begin incanting some nonsense, the accommodations that he'd brought into being before reappearing beside the cottage, the Knights sliding from the saddle and following his lead with their own packs tucked beneath their arms.

At some point in their journey, Arthur dozing off shortly after Mordred's fit, Aithusa had crawled up to cuddle up in the crook of his shoulder, her small head pressed against the King's neck. It was ridiculous and frankly aggravating but Arthur couldn't bring himself to disturb the dragon, suffering in silence till the dark haired warlock hopped into the cart and peered down at the sight with a glimmer in his eye.

"Oh shut up." Arthur grunted, frowning deeply at Merlin as he bit his lip, smile wide.

"Come here, Aithusa." He murmured, still smiling infernally bright as he leaned over and scooped the sleeping babe into his palms, her noises of protest sharp and pathetic.

"You adore her." Mordred said smartly as he clambered over the cart's edge, smirking at Arthur as he went. "You think she's darling."

"Go help Leon, Mite." The blonde man shot back icily, the tone barely making it's intended mark. Mordred just laughed at him as he tromped off.

"How is it that I am surrounded by utterly insubordinate, aggravating individuals?" He groaned, rubbing at his eyes as Merlin continued to coo at Aithusa in some odd, low toned babble.

"Birds of a feather flock together, Arthur." The physician replied cheekily, tucking the tiny dragon into his jacket pocket finally, leaning over and pulling the cloak that was draped across him like a blanket off. "You should know that."

Arthur just gave him a dry look as he knelt down next to him, the imp giving him a speculative look as the glimmer reappeared. "Time to move you."

He was about to brace for the inevitable discomfort of being manhandled but it didn't come, the dark haired man's eyes lighting with gold as he was lifted up, the only touch garnered light ones upon his back and thigh where he seemed to be guiding things along.

"You're full of surprises." The King hummed, trying to cover just how awkward this felt despite it's clear conveniences.

"I try." Merlin replied airily, getting him into the tent with brief help from Morgana, who held the tent flap open before dropping it closed behind them. The inside was more furnished than it had been before, the bedding thankfully not simply his bedroll but something akin to Merlin's own.

The reminder made his thoughts slide along that line, his gaze flicking over Merlin idly as he guided Arthur down onto the bed. Merlin had been away a while... But also...

"I'm surprised you declined to take me to your bed." He said unthinkingly, earning an alarmed look from Merlin, his face going as richly red as one of Arthur's old tunics. It took a moment or two for Arthur to understand the implications but he refused to correct himself, the statement made in innocence.

"Oh- Arthur..." Understanding seemed to properly dawn as Merlin worked through his own reaction, the embarrassment seeming to ease into something else. "I've been gone a while."

"So I'd gathered." The blonde man returned, inclining his head slightly as the physician floundered. "And?"

"And..." He hedged, squirming beneath Arthur's scrutiny. "I hadn't fixed things up since Freya left, so I want to... I'd rather some time to get things ready and I figured you might... I mean..."

Merlin bit his lip and then ran a hand over his face, looking around as he tried to come up with whatever was eluding him. "Obviously we haven't hid our... But..."

Oh.

"...you're worried about propriety?" It was truly shocking given how brazen Merlin had been in all else.

"I don't want anyone to get the wrong idea!"

"Merlin!" He groaned, slapping a hand over his face. "It's not as though either of us are-"

"I know!" Merlin wheezed, red again as though he were any kind of virginal. "I know. I know, Arthur. But..." The warlock was hedging again.

"Listen to me," Arthur started, staring him down pointedly. "I'm going to say this only once."

The nerves showed on Merlin's face, Aithusa poking her head out of his pocket suddenly and yawning as Arthur wound himself up to what needed saying. It was awful having to express himself like this, he felt like a simpleton.

"I want to be near you." He stated as plainly as he could, his face burning as Merlin's mouth opened and then shut again, clearly remembering what Arthur had said mid-attempt. "After everything that has happened, all the months apart from you and struggles that've come to pass... I want you close."

He swallowed hard, pushing out one last word that was rare to appear: "Please."

It was Arthur's turn to squirm, Merlin looking at him with adoration so plain it could've been spotted from miles away.

"Okay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic's fourth birthday is coming up (at least for the original first posting date)! How wild is that??


	47. The High Priestess' Heart

That night they slept together with fingers entwined, barely a hand's breadth between them despite Merlin's stalwart determination to sleep bodily removed from Arthur for the time being, worrying he might aggravate the King's wounds by jostling him in his sleep.

The following day saw Merlin cleaning and then summarily rearranging the interior of his humble home, Arthur noting with mild surprise that he completely replaced the bed, creating one wide enough to have the two of them less plastered together in the night. With the day Hunith also came, the woman greeting every one of them with delight, Arthur terrified to find her tearing up when she heard him speak.

"Oh, Hunith, please-" Arthur started, the auburn haired woman laughing a bit at his reaction as she wiped at the corners of her eyes. Merlin hovered nearby, his lips quirked into something just shy of a smile.

"I'm so glad you're free." Hunith said simply, patting his hand gently where it was folded between two of hers. "Men like you don't deserve such sadness."

It dumbfounded Arthur to hear such a thing, an objection jumping to the tip of his tongue that he barely bit back. Guilt roiled inside him as he pushed himself to smile and thank her.

Two days after that the King was allowed out and about, finding Gauis surprisingly tending to the last of his men's aches and pains individually, the white haired man bowing to him gracefully when he neared.

"Your majesty," He started, raising his head up and smiling kindly. "It gladdens my heart to see you're feeling better."

"Thank you," The blonde man returned quietly, thankful that there was no overt reaction to his regained abilities displayed for once. He'd had enough of the attention it'd garnered. "And thank you for taking care of my knights, I would not want Merlin to over extend himself so."

Gaius chuckled, glancing back down as he continued to repack his satchel, bandages carefully rewound and tucked away. "An unfortunate tendency that comes with a heart as soft as his."

"You've got my ears burning, the both of you." Merlin cut in with a huff to his words, Arthur turning to find him nearly pressed up against his back with how close he was standing. Aithusa was curled over the back of his neck, her little tail curled about his neck and her head rested on his shoulder. She was sleeping again, the lazy thing. "I've asked Guinevere to summon her father and Elyan, I figured that there would be repairs to be made."

"That was good of you." He commended, surprised by Merlin's forethought. It must've shown on his face because the warlock beamed at him, his heart jumping in his chest at the sight, the King unthinkingly catching Merlin's hand in his. There was something surely magnetic about the young physician that he was helpless to resist.

Gaius cleared his throat (in a way that sounded suspiciously like he was trying to cover laughter) startling Arthur out of his revelry, his grip on Merlin's hand remaining as he returned his attention to the elderly physician turned Druid.

"Yes. Well." He cleared his throat awkwardly, barely keeping from looking away as he spoke to Gaius. "Thank you again. I must go on and see to the rest of the camp."

"Sire." The physician replied, bowing his head again in deference.

The King escaped with Merlin happily in tow.

***

When Thomas and Elyan arrived at their camp Arthur asked him to see to all the blades of his men before his own, the two men nodding and getting to work as soon as the words had passed. When Thomas finally did come to him Arthur was alone in the cottage, his sword settled on the table.

Bidding him a quiet hello Thomas set his tools down beside the blade, pursing his lips as he took the weapon in hand and looked over the length of it. Arthur watched him quietly a little while, the man having been working the stone over the metal a while before he decided to speak.

"Thank you, Thomas, for the fine blade. It's served me better than any I could have hoped for." He pressed out, hoping he wouldn't startle the man in any way with the suddenness of it.

Thomas glanced at him, just a flick of his eyes, before looking back down at the blade. "I am gratified that you did as I asked."

"If you had not asked I would still have done what I could to keep Leon from harm." Arthur replied, his nerves picking at him as he worked to keep conversation with the older man.

"I could not be sure that you were not your Father's son." Thomas murmured, eyes steely as he kept his eyes on the sword. "Many a good man lay their allegiances at his feet and received naught."

He couldn't help but grit his teeth at that response, his chest going tight as his mind turned those words over and over again. Reaching up he rubbed his hand over his mouth, letting his gaze fall away to the dirt floor of the cottage.

"Some of us are not our Father's sons." Arthur managed, tone even as he thought of Vortimer's jovial smile and of his prosperous kingdom. The image of his Father's smiling face flitted across his mind, the memory warm despite the still fresh feeling sorrow that chased it. He was not his Father's son, not like that.

"For all our sakes I pray that that is true." Thomas' statement was stiff as he lifted the blade and looked it over again, brow creased in thought. "In the meantime my faith lies with iron and common men."

The burn in his chest didn't ebb but he didn't push the sensation away. There would always be those with doubts, he could not blame Thomas for his, wherever they might've come from.

"Arthur-" Morgana called out, sounding breathless as she pushed the door open, her cheeks red with exertion. Had she run there? "Oh- Thomas, hello, could we-"

"I'll finish with this elsewhere and leave it outside when done." He said, cutting her off and standing to slide by her with the sword and his tools. The burning in his chest eased slightly with his exit, Morgana dumbfounded for a few seconds before she hastened to close the door after him.

"What is it?" The blonde man asked finally when she turned back, crossing the small space and flopping down on the edge of the bed beside him.

"My sister sent word." She started, carding her hands through her raven locks, seeming to brim with energy despite clearly having rushed to get there. "There's been- Well I mean- It's..."

"Morgana _breathe_." Arthur pushed, trying to not sound alarmed. Morgana had only mentioned her sister a few times in passing, neither of them seemingly having wanted to speak of her further. "What's happened with your sister?"

"She's killed Cenred." The sorceress rushed out, her fingers frantically sorting her locks out, Arthur squawking and trying to say something but she cut him off. "She was at court in Essetir to represent the Isle and to keep an eye on things... Morgause said it would be no trouble to do a little information gathering, she's powerful and has more than a few ways to do it but-"

"She's killed Cenred!?" Arthur burst out again, pale and disbelieving. They were meant to treat with him and she'd gone and killed him before they could even see if his interest was genuine!?

"He hadn't rejected Morfydd's offer!" Morgana replied, tone going a little shrill. "They faked the rejection of the alliance, he's how Morfydd was able to find your party!"

They'd known he was still alive and making moves. Some of the stress left him with that information firmly in hand, the King rubbing a hand over his face. "And she killed him... for doing that to me?"

"Well, actually..." Morgana flushed and looked just a little ashamed of herself. "For me."

"You had her-!?"

"NO! No, no, no not like that!" She placated anxiously, rubbing a hand over her face. "No, she... I never told her that I'd gone with Guinevere... So she thought..."

"She thought you were with me still." Arthur stated slowly, agog at the magnitude of what had happened and what that sudden change could mean to their future. His sister nodded, looking just a tiny bit pleased that Morgause's familial love had extended so far.

"...while I don't doubt that she's powerful... is she in danger? Do we need to help her?" Killing Cenred was one thing but it was entirely something else to get out of Essetir intact should his men have remained loyal.

"She could teleport away... But the climate of the court turned it's favor away from Cenred due to his dealings in the last year. Evidently Rheged's spares were even too much for the knights in his employ to stomach. The last she said was that she would be seeking out the next heir of Essetir and seeing if he is worthy... But for now they are removed from the field."

Arthur rubbed at his eyes, the last of the stress over that draining out of him. Thank goodness.

"Arthur-" Merlin's voice cut through, the door opening again and sending Morgana to her feet, both shocking Arthur from his revelry. "Oh. What's-"

"I'll tell you later." Morgana answered sweetly, patting Arthur's head on the way by, the swish of her skirts finally making him look up fully. "I've got to go speak with Gwen."

'Liar.' Arthur thought blandly, the inconspicuous wink she shot him doing nothing for her innocence. Merlin seemed to take it in stride, closing the door after her before waving his hand over it, something Arthur had finally pieced together as a kind of way to lock it. Heat curled in his belly as the further association it held came to him. Alone time.

"It's time for me to check you over." The warlock hummed softly, spelling the laces of Arthur's tunic open before he carefully helped him to get it over his head, the King putting up no objection. The lacerations on his shoulders were carefully tended to first, Merlin moving on and pressing his palms over his cracked ribs as he incanted, trying to push as much healing magic into him in an attempt to further accelerate his healing.

The closeness felt like a balm to his soul after riding the stresses of the last few hours, the blonde man resting his head against Merlin's shoulder as he worked, just breathing him in. The physician seemed to enjoy it, his thumbs caressing over his bare skin as he leaned in and pressed kisses to Arthur's brow, murmuring what came out to be practically nonsensical phrases of affection.

Cupping the warlock's cheek Arthur guided Merlin down into a kiss, his free hand covering one of the warlock's own, carefully peeling it away so they could twine their fingers together properly. Merlin's lips were surely divinely crafted, their soft, lush state truly maddening.

"Perhaps you should take further rest, sire." The dark haired man murmured against his mouth, the pair of them just barely parted. "A nap would do you good."

"I suppose I could lie down a little while." Arthur replied, licking his own lips as he pulled back, gaze falling to Merlin's again. They were truly a gift from above, Merlin's smile turning them into something even lovelier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the long delay, things fell to pieces for a while whilst my Grandmother was in hospice and I was unable to do much else but exist and try to take care of the basics for myself and my family. Now with all things said and done I've finally gotten back to WW and can say that it's final chapters are planned out and I am ready to write! I've missed doing this very much. I hope you all enjoy the new chapter!


	48. A Year, Three Months, and a Week

When Arthur could breathe normally word was sent to each of the kingdoms, Morgana scrying each royal personally and outlining their changes to the plans whilst the King himself tried to get back into satisfactory shape. Mordred trained alongside him, Arthur working to teach him as much as humanly possible before he put his plans into action.

"You want me to what!?" The boy squawked, beginning to turn red as he glared up at the blonde man.

"I want you with Bayard's mages, Mordred." Arthur repeated, frowning down at him as the boy's expression changed, getting the look on his face when he was actually pushing himself to take in thoughts instead of happening upon them as he usually did. The blonde had learned a thing or two about avoiding his thieving, flicking the boy's nose and trying to have him redirect his focus. " _Listen_ to me. This is _very_ important."

"You're just trying to get rid of me again, why should I bother?"

"Because I am _not_ trying to be rid of you!" He bit back, aggravation rising up further and further. "I've actually devised a mutually satisfactory place for you in the fight! Or would you prefer I have Gwaine take you far away again?"

Mordred's eyes narrowed but he bit his tongue for the moment, clearly conceding for now.

Sighing heavily he scrubbed a hand across the top of the boy's head, mussing his hair was he started to speak. "You're very powerful, Mordred, we all know that. By having you go forth with the mage battalion you will be amongst not only your peers but those who can guide you while we work our way inside. You, like the archers, will be covering the men on foot. You'll be helping to shield and fend off what will be undoubtedly rained down from the ramparts, be it magic or arrow. Do you think you could handle that?"

The Druid boy took a few seconds before he scoffed, cheeks red from flattery rather than anger this time. "Of course I can."

Arthur smiled, letting out a slow breath as relief flooded him. "Good. I knew you could."

***

As Arthur had been healing, Morgana and Merlin had not been idle, the pair working enchantments and protection spells into every piece of armor they could get their hands on, practically weaving them into the very fabric that the Knights wore. Elyan and Thomas had seen to the tangible breaks, mending everything that they could manage over such a short period for so many men. By the time they were ready to leave and begin the march to Camelot they looked almost like a proper army.

The plans they'd made dealt with the near surrounding of Camelot by the four armies: the two larger, Caerleon and Mercia, would helm the main attack, while Gawant and those who had shared in Arthur's exile would work to circumvent any movement to flank and catch them unawares.

Another part to the plan had been introduced, however; something of a gambit that Balinor had suddenly come up with naught two days prior, his face flushed with shame as he spoke of it.

"...you have a friend in Camelot?" Arthur asked, eyeing Merlin's father with a rather baffled expression.

"Aye, sire." He replied, not fidgeting bodily but certainly looking as though he'd like to beneath the scrutiny. "Perhaps friend is too strong a word. An ally, in any case. One that could lend aid if given... incentive."

"And why would this ally of your's do this?" The blonde man asked carefully, looking toward where Merlin puttered around packing, the hesitations he made every now and again giving away how he was dropping more eaves than actually focusing on his task.

"Because I am a Dragonlord." Balinor pressed out, tone somewhat brittle as he used the word. "And he is a Dragon."

It had been hard to swallow the idea. A dragon, chained beneath the citadel since the Purge. A dragon his Father had kept as a spoil of war. One he'd tricked Balinor into giving him.

He'd pushed himself to get over it and take the advisement to heart, the pair of them working out how they might get in and set it loose. With his intimate knowledge of the citadel's layout and oft forgotten entrances it formulated rather easily. Arthur, Balinor, Merlin, and Morgana would use the siege tunnels to gain access and get Balinor into the place he'd described. Arthur had almost forgotten his attempts to slip by the guards there when he was small, though the beating he'd received for his disobedience when he'd been caught had not faded as much. It was no wonder he'd never caught wind of such a thing.

The march to war had always set his nerves alight but being involved in such subterfuge instead of being on the front lines of the fight made them even worse, his brief meeting with Bayard, Godwyn, Vortimer, and Rodor doing nothing to ease it. He wanted to stand with his men.

"Don't work yourself up." Vortimer chided, coming to stand beside him outside the tent once their meeting had adjourned, his large hand curling over Arthur's shoulder. "Our plans are sound. This is the best way forward, do not waver now."

"...thank you." He murmured, taking a slow breath in, trying to steel himself for the work ahead. "I'm deeply honored to have the help that you and the others have given."

"Well... It will be good to see someone with a level head upon the throne. Goodness knows that Urien does not come from the most stable of stock." The older man chuckled, hand slipping away as he made to leave.

"Camelot deserves to thrive... And so do you."

***

The lack of care that Urien and Morfydd had taken showed when they emerged from the siege tunnels into the well tread parts of the citadel, the corridors seemingly empty for quite some time rather than newly left in favor of defending. It made it so that they were able to deliver Balinor easily to the staircase that lead down to the secret cavern, the Dragonlord wincing every once and a while on their way there.

"He's speaking to me." The man explained quietly when Merlin pressed him, his son's worry forcing his hand. "He's... unhappy to say the least."

Balinor motioned for them to move on, heading down with his torch as the three of them headed onward, Arthur's sword already pulled from his belt as they crept through the halls. Merlin and Morgana's hands were conspicuously free, though both had swords at their sides at Arthur's behest.

The citadel shook and echoed with what happened above, undoubtedly powerful magic being traded back and forth as swordsmen clashed beneath the exchange, the sound of metal on metal reaching them even there as faint as it was.

On their way through Arthur found himself gritting his teeth, the Vaults left open and a mess, the tapestries in many places ripped from the walls, laying in shreds upon the floor. The farther they got the more things seemed to be in similar sorts of ruin, furniture and finery torn apart.

Morgana put a hand to his arm, seemingly picking up on his distress before he even realized it for what it was. Merlin touched his wrist briefly but did not hold him up, Arthur nodding to the both of them as they continued along.

They found Urien in the throne room, Arthur's feet feeling like stones as he entered the familiar place, wondering why even now he'd expected to see his Father sitting there, awaiting him.

Instead he was met with laughter and the sneering, horrible face of his usurper, the man wearing Uther's crown. "Ah, Arthur, what a pleasant surprise. Do you like what I've done with the place?"

Urien stood, his grin widening as his eyes sparked with gold. "I told her it wasn't her place, that you would be mine to end if anyone... But Morfydd was never good at listening. You've done me a favor, ridding me of her. Now I won't have to share."

The Rhegedian Prince thrust his hand out, a burst of fire slicing along the floor, raising it's flames high as Arthur shielded his face unthinkingly, the heat of it briefly reaching before it was suddenly eradicated, the room briefly feeling as though the air had left it. Urien gaped then spat, baring his teeth like a beast. "So you've got more than paltry swordsmen banging down my door... You've gone and hired yourself some proper traitors as well."

"You cannot betray someone you fail to support from the start." Merlin stated, voice like ice. 

"Using magic for a Pendragon is as good as betrayal." He hissed, throwing his hands forward as wind suddenly raged out of nowhere, Morgana throwing up an arm and spitting a counterspell. The wind turned back at him, catching him and tossing him back into his seat, the crown falling and rolling from his head.

"And a Pendragon _using_ magic? What might that mean?" She asked as Arthur suddenly advanced on him, stepping over the crown as he went.

Urien seemingly laughed at the sight, pushing himself up again as the rightful King of Camelot approached. "You really think you can best me!? Alone!? With your dogs you'd have a fighting chance, but alone? A pathetic orphan with _no voice_!? You're really a fool."

Arthur hissed loudly, raising his sword just as Urien raised his hands, his dark irises melting into gold once more.

"Wit ásælan!" Was screamed from behind, Morgana and Merlin's voices joined together as Urien shouted in shock, his magic suddenly pressed back into him as the King of Camelot reeled back and stabbed him through the chest, the blade practically skewering him and the throne besides.

The rattling gasps of disbelief echoed through the huge room, Urien's mouth working as he looked wide eyed upon his destruction, Arthur red faced and furious as wrenched the sword back out, holding Urien steady by his hair. "The only one alone is _you_."

His usurper's fear seemed to spike with those words, the man never seeing Arthur's sword coming as he brought it down for the final strike, cleaving his head from his shoulders.

***

With Urien dealt with his forces fell easily, shocked and seemingly submissive when Arthur appeared holding his head still by the hair. The dragon soaring above had not been terribly inspiring either to the remainder of the Rhegedian spellswords, their surrender a quick one.

Eventually he bagged the gruesome thing up and placed it aside, instructing one of his men to find means to pack it up, intending to send it to Rheged as both a warning and a threat.

After their forces poured into the capital Arthur found his nervous energy dying off completely, just bone deep fatigue plaguing him with every step thereafter. He had dispensed of the bloody chainmail and allowed himself the time to wipe himself down from a basin before pacing the citadel practically from top to bottom, taking in the destruction that had been done.

His Father's chambers had been made a true and utter mess, Urien having made himself more than comfortable by painstakingly destroying anything he could get his hands on, most of his Father's furniture gone and replaced with something likely shipped in from Rheged, the wood strange to him compared to the familiar grain of Ash and Oak or even the Elm they'd sometimes used.

The room was foreign feeling and awful, Arthur's stomach dropping as he looked for even a glimpse of familiarity there. He'd have the furniture burned... After all he needed to move into the King's chambers as soon as possible... But perhaps he'd reverse the rooms, make what had largely been referred to as Ygraine's chambers for his own instead.

Her chambers were not untouched either, though the furniture and hangings like in much of the citadel had been ruined beyond repair. It hurt, for whatever reason, seeing her things in such a state. It was no worse than the things they'd done to the crypt, awful messages carved right into the stone of her tomb... But to do this to the place she lived, to the things she might've cherished...

"Arthur?"

He'd almost completely forgotten that he wasn't alone, the blonde man jerking and looking toward where Merlin still stood in the doorway, the warlock looking concerned and unsure. His expression adjusted slightly, whatever he was worried about leaving him as he crossed the floor, cupping Arthur's face, shocking the King as he wiped away tears he hadn't realized he'd been shedding.

"Oh Arthur..." Merlin murmured, kissing his forehead softly before pulling him in against his chest, arms tight around him as Arthur tried to find the words to assure him. But they wouldn't come and he found himself holding onto his paramour like a lifeline, burying his face against the physician's shoulder as he allowed himself a moment of grief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title has to do with how long Arthur's quest was.
> 
> Morgana & Merlin's spell translated is simply "we bind" in Old English.
> 
> Finally the King is back where he belongs :D


	49. To Rebuild

They spent the night together, Merlin curled around Arthur in a dusty, barely touched set of guest quarters. One of the few bits of fortune left in the citadel, it seemed, that the Rhegedian devils had only stuck to the more tread places.

Despite the solidity of Merlin's presence and his soothing, even breathing against Arthur's nape, the King found no sleep that night, the weight of his birthright resettling into his bones. He was truly King now.

There had been many a night preceding this one that he had plotted the bones of this path with, but the resounding success of retaking his home he found he felt woefully unprepared for the outcome. Perhaps he'd felt bleaker about the odds than he'd allowed himself to acknowledge.

Arthur's attention was torn away when lips suddenly pressed firmly to the back of his neck, the warlock's hand that had hung limply against his stomach splaying it's fingers and caressing gently through the fabric of his tunic. Merlin shifted till his chest was pressed properly up against the King's back, adjusting where his arm was tucked beneath the pillow and his head. "...still awake?"

The blonde briefly considered feigning sleep, unsure if he was up to carrying on conversation. Even one as light as he might carry on with a sleep addled Merlin seemed imposing. He sighed, sliding his arm up to fall over the physician's, cupping the back of his hand before twining their fingers together. "Mmhm."

"Do you know how to sleep?" The question flummoxed him, the blonde turning slightly so he could get a look at the ridiculous man. Merlin looked beautifully ruffled in the low light, his mouth curled just shy of a real smile, his eyes giving his mood away completely.

"Why no, Merlin, I thought one was supposed to lay here and stare till dawnlight." Arthur replied, tone dry as he finally turned over completely, jostling and pulling at the warlock till he was tucked beneath his chin, Arthur tucking his arm up beneath his pillow as his paramour chuckled. "Perhaps you could enlighten me of this proper sleep you're eluding to."

Merlin hummed, Arthur feeling the hand that was curled between them turn and press it's palm over his heart as the warlock tucked the other against the King's side, his arm slung around his back snugly. "Well, _my lord_ , you start by closing your eyes. Next comes the relaxing of your muscles. A stiff body is no good when preparing for such an activity."

The King snorted softly, letting his eyes close and keeping his mouth shut despite how much he wanted to make a crass comment over what activity stiff bodies were good for. He listened to Merlin prattle on softly about how one achieved proper slumber but he was no closer to it till the ridiculous object of his affections began to sing a soft lullaby, his tone thickening as he worked the words from his mouth. The meaning was beyond him, but by the sound of it it was in the dialect that ran rampant in the more Northern lands, the one that came from across the sea.

Thoughts of the crashing waves carried him off and before he knew it the Sun was once again hanging in the sky, sunlight streaming in over the pair of them.

***

There were many more meetings to be had betwixt the royal households but for the moment they gave him a reprieve, the Kings moving their men into settling in and recovering from the difficult work. They would reconvene in three days time.

The first order of things aside from the clearing of the ruined materials from the household was to have the Knights rounds reinstated and guard rounds to be established. Next came the hiring of hands, Arthur gratified to find that Leon had been ahead of him somewhat on that front.

"Geoffrey," Arthur breathed, smiling broadly in a way he never expected to come from the sight of the elderly man, his bearded face a welcome sight to his tired eyes. "You're alive."

The man smiled back, his lip trembling slightly before he moved to speak, bowing before doing so. He looked slightly gaunter than Arthur recalled, but well nonetheless. "My King... It is so good to see you again."

Arthur inhaled slowly, pushing away the strange sensation at being addressed as such by the Court Genealogist, and nodded a bit in response as Leon cleared his throat quietly, drawing his attention. "Yes, Sir Leon?"

"Sire, there is more to this meeting than I first said..." The taller man smiled awkwardly, seemingly nervous. "Aside from finding Geoffrey in good health... I would like to bring to your attention his feats of bravery."

Arthur furrowed his brow as the elderly man colored, sputtering softly as Leon clasped a hand over his shoulder, squeezing slightly as he continued. "Geoffrey of Monmouth saved my life, and the lives of many other knights. He sheltered us and the serving staff in the library when we were overrun."

"...in the library?" He was baffled by that, having seen just how the library had been treated in their absence. Though tombs had not been irreparably destroyed the damage in there was comparable. "How is it that they did not find you?"

Geoffrey coughed slightly as Leon patted his back a bit too roughly, urging him to speak, the royal library's caretaker looking strangely shamefaced despite his heroic actions. "There was... is... There is something that was... It was an accidental find, one that... That is to say..."

"There is a secret chamber behind the shelves." Leon finally broke in, taking pity on the elderly archivist. "He harbored us there when they came looking. The servants took us through their passages thereafter and we escaped into the lower town in order to come to your aid."

"I did not keep it a secret out of ill will toward your Father!" Geoffrey burst out suddenly, shocking the pair of young men. Geoffrey looked Arthur in the eye finally, facing his fears. "You must understand this. I was loyal... But to destroy what was kept there... Would be a blight on my soul. I could not reveal such a trove of knowledge only to have it destroyed because it was... Is..."

"Books of magic." Arthur deduced softly, the elderly man looking away again. The King sighed, smiling gently as he reached out and touched the archivist's shoulder. "Thank you, Geoffrey, for saving my people... and staying safe yourself. You have done the kingdom a great service."

"Sire." Geoffrey replied helplessly, eyes looking wet beneath his bushy, drawn brows.

***

It was not the last time Arthur was to thank his subjects. The next day whilst he was working to clear debris from another part of the castle he was shocked to see Percival leading three familiar faces down the hall toward them. Merlin paused to look as well, glancing between the object of Arthur's attention and then to the man himself, clearly curious.

"Sire." Percival greeted mildly, standing aside and waving an arm to the two men and lone woman that had accompanied him. "Sir Leon sent me to present three of your citizens. They wish to rejoin the royal household."

It was hard not to smile over the simple fact that they were still well, let alone that they were loyal enough to come back to his employ. Morris, his former manservant, shifted from foot to foot, always the nervous thing. George, one of the last of the new hires he recalled, stood stiff backed and stoic. Audrey, the fiery head cook, stared at him with a strange expression, expectation the only clear thing to it.

"Well, this is surely a welcome surprise." He murmured, straightening up and tossing aside the ruined wood he'd been working to clear off with Merlin. "I'm glad to see you all."

"Likewise, sire." Audrey replied, her manners as lackadaisical as ever. It made his heart light despite all that still weighed on him to see her still as quick as ever.

"You are all reinstated." Arthur finally said, dusting his hands off on his breeches. "Morris, your service is going to be communicated to another of this household. George, you are promoted to direct household service. I will further affix you once things are cleared... And of course, Audrey, you will retake your position."

Morris unsurprisingly seemed relieved by the news, Arthur biting back a chuckle as he remembered his admittedly childish behavior toward his former manservant. He'd suit Mordred just fine once he announced the boy's status.

"Thank you kindly, sire." Audrey responded, curtsying as the two men bowed. "There is something else, though. Something I need to be owning up to."

Arthur quirked a brow at that, hands finding a place on his hips. "And that is?"

"Well, begging your pardon sire, but we did a fair bit of thieving." She said, shocking him utterly at the boldness. Percival's eyes bugged out from their even stare, the tall Knight turning to look at the woman like she was daft.

Audrey looked nonplussed by their reactions, casually dusting her skirts as she stared back. "Myself and the wait staff all had a hand in it. Had the idea on the fly, y'see. We all were frightful fond of... Well you and the Queen in particular."

"...so you stole from the castle?" Arthur pressed out, trying to parse exactly what was going on the woman's head. Admitting to stealing after she was hired back!? What could she possibly be after with such a thought!?

"We did." The Cook nodded. "And we'll bring it all back if you'll allow for it. We just couldn't bear the thought of those awful devils ruining such things. It wouldn't have been right."

Her expression became somehow fond but incensed, the woman gesturing a bit as she spoke. "The Queen was a light for a fair amount of us, she deserves a memory unsullied."

What Audrey evidently meant by that was simply beyond Arthur. Only when she came back leading a parade of his men did he understand what she and the others had taken.

Ygraine's rooms were not simply ransacked by the Rhegedian usurpers but his people themselves. For his sake. For Ygraine's memory. Even a bit of Uther remained.

Portraits, finery, mementos, favored items... They were all presented to him in the gathering hall, laid out upon the long council table.

He had to sit down, trying to process just what had been given back to him.

"Arthur?" Merlin called tentatively, drawing him back to attention. It seemed he'd been quiet a long while. "Are you all right?"

"...yes." He finally pressed out, standing as he looked to Audrey and the few former maids that had declined to return as of yet. Perhaps one day they'd be swayed back. Either way there would be compensation in their futures for this gift. Approaching the small grouping he took a deep breath in, pressing a hand over his heart.

"Thank you for this. You have returned to me... so much that I had no hope of replacing. You are all more loyal than I deserve. I hope I can repay you properly in the near future for this."

The maids and the Cook all seemed embarrassed by the sincerity of his statement, swishing their skirts and ducking their heads, even Audrey seeming cowed by the fervor. "It was nothing we would not readily do again, sire... We loved her Majesty. We believe in you."

When they finally departed Arthur crossed to the table and gripped it's edge, shoulders rounding as he bit back the urge to weep openly. Merlin hovered at his side, rubbing his back as he leaned in, whispering into his ear. "Come... We'll care for this later... You need a break."

***

The break Merlin had guided him into was lunch followed by an attempt to coax the King into napping, the fatigue that had settled heavily upon him not enough to really push him to sleep. Rather he felt different wants arise as he lay at the warlock's side, his fingers combing through Arthur's hair. Shifting slightly he tucked his elbow underneath, propping himself up properly so he could look Merlin over. The lanky man popped an eye open at the movement, lazily looking back before opening the other. "Something wrong?"

"No." He replied, voice soft as he reached out, sliding an idly affectionate hand over Merlin's belly, just enjoying his freedom to do so for the moment. The physician sighed, clearly pleased by the attention but not deigning to comment on it. Arthur had been slowly acclimating himself to all the privileges that came with what they were now. It still shocked him sometimes that something so simple had not been his all along for as natural as it felt.

"Admiring my beard again?" Merlin teased quietly, eyes close to drifting closed again beneath the slow rub of Arthur's hand. "I hope envy is not getting the better of you."

Arthur snorted at the thought, shifting up so he was leaned proper over the impish man, the perfect angle for what he wanted. "Envious of a woodland creature that has decided to cling itself onto your chin? I think not."

"I could show you the benefits that go with my beard." The warlock replied, catching Arthur's gaze when it lifted from his smiling mouth, his eyes darker for how big his pupils had become. Arthur inhaled sharply, finally catching on to the meaning as Merlin brought a hand up to curl over his side, his palm feeling hot through the fabric between them.

"You're salacious." The King huffed, earning a laugh out of the pale man before he descended upon him, kissing him deeply as soon as he was allowed passed, his tongue sliding along Merlin's in a way that made him shiver. The man beneath him practically purred under the attention, Merlin's thoughts apparently becoming coherent enough before the end of things in order for him to properly grab Arthur about the middle and haul him on top.

When their kiss broke Merlin smirked broadly up at the King, sliding his hands down his back to grab at his arse unashamedly, Arthur gasping and giving him a shocked look. "And you're a supercilious prat."

He squeezed Arthur's behind and the King couldn't quite take looking him in the eye, dropping his head so he could hide his face against Merlin's neck, muffling the moan that came from the manhandling. His cock pulsed and thickened, pushing against it's confines till Merlin jostled their hips into aligning, Arthur finding the warlock just as hard as he. " _Arthur_..."

Merlin moaning his name was what broke his control, the blonde man having tried to push himself to be more measured, more careful with each step they took. Now he could feel it all slipping away, Arthur moaning again as he rocked forward, pushing himself up to pull at the physician's clothes. "Please. Off. Get them off."

Instead of listening as he hoped Merlin sat up and instead gathered him close and into another kiss, the heat and sheer passion he put into it making Arthur temporarily thoughtless. All other parts of reality melted away until it was only the two of them and this kiss.

When he was finally released Merlin was quick to shuck his tunic, letting Arthur sort himself out till they were both down to their breeches, the pair of them sliding from the bed to be properly rid of the last barriers. Arthur didn't know what to expect when he looked up but aside from the pallor of the other man's skin he was mesmerized by the newness, shakily running the tips of his fingers along the bare expanses as Merlin returned the action in kind. "You're beautiful."

"I don't think there are words to describe you." Merlin replied, voice full of fervor as he stepped closer, drawing his hands up Arthur's sides with fingers splayed, his expression surely mirroring Arthur's with how enamored he appeared.

He would've laughed if he hadn't felt so absolutely taken with the sentiment, Merlin leaving no room for further comment as he kissed Arthur again. It was somehow more chaste and more heart rending than the last, taking his breath away. It felt like a promise.

After leisurely exploring each other with only their hands they finally had mind enough again to work out certain things, the pair of them ending up face to prick on the bed. The construction of the position left them with little fits of laughter for how awkward it'd been getting to it, the King having to lean his face against Merlin's thigh as he got all of it out, the warlock barely better off. "This is ridiculous..."

"Agreed," Merlin replied, smoothing his hands over Arthur's hips as he licked at his lips, the King just barely catching sight of the motion, his face going hot as the warlock focused. "But worthwhile, I'd say."

With no other preamble than that Merlin took the head of his prick into his mouth, sucking him down with a pleased hum as he steadied the King. Arthur's own hands gripped at Merlin's knees, scrabbling against his inner thighs as he moaned at the slick warmth engulfing him. Cheek pressed against the warlock's leg he stared at the man's cock, taking in a few fortifying breaths as he pushed up and started to treat him in kind, sliding his tongue over the tip and kissing at the head, curling one hand around the base before beginning to stroke.

The muffled sound behind him and the matching vibration along his cock told him he was doing something right, the King beginning to work him in a steady rhythm as he mouthed at the head of Merlin's cock again, taking him in just as Merlin's tongue wriggled against his shaft, making him moan around his newfound mouthful. It quickly became a pleasurable sort of oneupmanship, the pair throwing new combinations at each other. It was only when Merlin took him deep that things came to a halt, Arthur pulling away with a hoarse cry as he came without warning, his hand still working Merlin's spit slick prick as orgasm crashed over him.

The warlock hissed and grabbed at his arse hard, fingertips digging into the plush flesh, his hips pushing up to thrust into Arthur's hand. The King's breath was ragged, lungs working to catch up as he watched for a moment or two before grabbing the warlock by the hips and plunging back down, hollowing his cheeks around Merlin's cock and earning a yelp for his trouble. "A-Arthur!"

Evidently that was an attempt at a warning as Merlin came all over his tongue, the blonde man swallowing as he withdrew, licking away what he missed from the tip and his own lips as the warlock whimpered under him. Heart beating wildly he flopped to the side, carding both hands through his hair as he tried to catch his breath, tongue rubbing against the roof of his mouth as he contemplated the bitter flavor that was left behind from Merlin's spend. "...I think... I could stand to have that nap, now."

Merlin just laughed as Arthur turned and crawled back up to lay beside him proper, the warlock drawing him in and kissing him softly. "Then a nap you shall have, sire."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After world events it was difficult to get back to this but we are so close to the end, folks!!! So close!!! How could I let this sit any longer!? I gotta get this done!! I can't believe this literally started out as a Little Mermaid AU thought that became all this!!


	50. In Culmination

Out of all the people who had returned to Camelot with him Arthur was shocked to find that of his household it was Mordred who seemed to acclimatize the easiest, the boy navigating the citadel as though it was second nature. It came in stark contrast to Morgana and Gaius, both of whom he found more than once in the halls quite baffled as to how they'd gotten turned around in their trekking from one point to another.

Aside from the navigational issues Morgana fell into life in Camelot with ease, helping to direct people and arrange for things that took some of the stresses from Arthur's shoulders. Gaius had reunited at some point with Geoffrey of Monmouth and the two were instantly thick as thieves, the pair cloistering themselves in the library with a few of the mages so that they could get on with cleaning up and repairing the place.

He was shocked to find that Guinevere had set herself up to work beside both the blacksmith and the carpenter, the dark haired woman elbow deep in the literal rebuilding of Camelot as though it was always her responsibility. She was a sight to behold: a list written in Morgana's curly script in hand and a hammer in the other.

"Pretty, isn't she." Mordred chirped at his side, Arthur rolling his eyes skyward as he turned and looked at the boy. His grin was impish and frightfully close to how Merlin looked when he was up to his worst, the expression turning to an exasperated disgust just before the boy shoved at him. "Ugh! You're still awful! Aren't involved people supposed to _stop_ pining??"

Arthur just grinned, catching the boy around the neck, rubbing his knuckles rapidly over the crown of black hair. Mordred yelped, flailing and pushing at the trapping arm. "Is that any way to speak to your King?"

"Arthur!! Lemme go!!"

"Hmm? That doesn't sound quite right." He chuckled, continuing to noogie the boy. "Maybe you should try again?"

"Arthur!!!"

"Try... oh, I don't know... Calling me sire? Or your majesty?" Arthur grinned broadly down at him. "Or your Highness?"

"Let me _go_!" Suddenly his arm was forced away as though by an extra hand, Mordred flopping to the ground and glaring up at the King. The man in question sighed, putting a hand on his hip as he looked down at the child.

"Really, Mordred, using magic?"

"Really, Arthur, using your _arms_?" He shot back, punching Arthur in the calf with a huff. "You're such a prat."

"Takes one to know one." The King replied, leaning over and practically scooping the boy up, settling him back on his feet. The Druid child dusted himself off, shooting Arthur a dirty look for his trouble. A look that felt oddly like one of his own.

Oh.

***

The clearing and cleaning constantly paid off by the evening of the third day, Arthur going to sleep beside Merlin bone tired but happy despite things.

The next morning Arthur dressed in the finest things he had, struggling through what Merlin called "helping" (which was really more groping than anything of a helping kind) before hurrying out the door to meet with his esteemed guests, smiling broadly when he found not only the Kings there but Queen Annis as well, the imposing woman seeming to have just arrived, her arm looped loosely through Vortimer's. Gesturing with a flourish and a proper, polite greeting, the true King of Camelot led them inside.

It took the better part of the day to finish smoothing out all their terms of the alliance. Arthur was unsurprised when it was Bayard who pressed the most issue with each motion, the collection of royalty finally finding themselves satisfied when dusk was nearly a hour or two off, each signing their names to the document and it's copies.

Arthur felt as though he might melt from the relief that washed through him as the informal toast was made. At last, all his worries were at rest.

"Now that that is sorted... I invite you all to arrange yourselves in proper guest quarters and join me this night in a feast." He said as he slowly stood, smoothing his tunic absently as he pushed himself to stand straight, his body's desire to relax at odds with the persona he had to affect.

Though it was hardly a surprising gesture the others seemed buoyed by the notion nonetheless, if only for the fact that they were now able to abandon their tent accommodations for more sheltering walls. As they began to rise and clear from the room Merlin appeared and slid by, approaching Arthur with a rather blank expression affixed, the only thing boding strangely about it the way his eyes were squinched slightly with clear glee.

"What is it?" Arthur asked when they were finally alone, brow raising as Merlin's excitement only seemed to amplify with the question. Before the other man could reply he amended it, brow rising higher. "What've you done?"

"Nothing terrible, I assure you." Merlin replied, guiding Arthur from the room, one hand conspicuously tucked behind his back. "Just a small surprise... I had some time on my hands with you lot taking forever."

They ended up in the actual throne room somehow, the Warlock's chatter distracting him long enough not to notice the purpose to his direction. With the doors shut behind them Merlin herded him up and into his throne, the strangeness still not having fled from his heart over now being seated in the center. Merlin's neutral expression deteriorated into one of glee to finally match his eyes, making the achy thoughts flee, his mind eager for the distraction.

He was about to ask the Warlock again for the point of all this but a hand came up, stalling the words on the tip of his tongue as Merlin brought his other hand around, holding up... Nothing. Nothing, seemingly, until his other hand passed over it, revealing a burnished crown of gold, five prongs rising from the band, the shape of them resembling the antlers of a stag somehow. The one in the middle that sat highest also extended down to a point where it would undoubtedly sit betwixt one's eyebrows.

Arthur's mouth worked for a moment before he brought his hand up and rubbed it over his lips, exhaling through his nose as he sat beneath Merlin's scrutiny, the barest of smiles now playing at his lush mouth. The physician was truly excellent at destroying one's expectations.

"Tada." He murmured cheekily, waving his free hand with a little flourish and making Arthur chuckle despite the emotions squeezing at his heart. The blonde man had been arguing internally with himself over how to present himself that night, it feeling off to consider wearing his Father's crown after that all had come to pass. He'd toyed with the idea of taking his Mother's own crown to use temporarily... But it felt too sacred. He had resolved to go without.

"... not bad... for a country physician." The King finally stated, smirking cheekily as Merlin gaped momentarily before gathering his wits.

"A fitting crown, then, for a cabbage headed King."

Arthur just laughed, head tipping back briefly as his amusement got the better of him. Laughter slowly subsiding he caught Merlin staring at him with baldfaced affection, the attention making him color and divert his gaze for a second or two beneath it's intensity. "Undoubtedly a perfect match."

After a moment of looking at one another Merlin cleared his throat, bowing slightly as he offered up the crown. "So, _sire_ , shall we try it on?"

"Hm..." He feigned consideration before giving a curt nod, Merlin snickering as he stood normally once more and moved into Arthur's space proper, settling the crown upon his head, adjusting it just slightly before stepping back. Sitting up straighter he looked up at the Warlock curiously, inclining his head just so. "So how do I look?"

The dark haired man was silent, Arthur's brow furrowing as he looked him over. "Merlin?"

Merlin took a sharp breath in, as though he'd halted his breathing during that short period, blinking rapidly as he focused in on what was going on once again. "You... You look wonderful."

Arthur found that he had a lapful of the Warlock in the next moment, gladly kissing back when he slotted their lips together.

***

Aside from the head table where he and his allies sat Arthur had arranged for an "honored guests" table to be marked and catered to, the King himself herding Merlin, Merlin's parents, Gaius, Morgana, Gwen, Percival, Lancelot, and Gwaine to it before having to draw Mordred away from the youngest of his serving staff, chuckling as the boy squawked over his play being disrupted. Once the Druid child was settled in Arthur made for his own chair, welcoming his honored guests to the celebration formally finally, gesturing to them in each in turn before taking up his goblet and toasting them. The toast was echoed by his subjects, the blonde man beaming at the chorus.

"Those are not the only thanks of the night that will be given. My ever loyal knights, my brothers in arms... If you had not risked life and limb for me this day may not have come, and for that you shall be honored as well." He toasted the table of Knights, his men cheering and raising their goblets in return. "Congratulations are also owed to Sir Leon... your new Captain."

The look on Leon's face was priceless, it looked like he was about to drop his drink as the men shoved at him, laughing at his reaction as he colored and gave Arthur something of an exasperated smile. "You honor me, sire."

Arthur barely repressed the urge to wink at him teasingly, nodding to acknowledge the sentiment before moving on, gesturing toward the special table. The way Morgana was looking at him suggested she already had sensed where this was going, her slightly narrow gaze only giving the King a moment's pause before he smirked, starting to speak. "And finally my newfound friends..."

"Lancelot, Percival, Gwaine... Balinor." The Dragonlord looked taken aback to be included in that grouping momentarily, clearly puzzled. "You loaned me prowess, strength, and advantage that you could have withheld. Your deeds cannot go unnoticed... and in return I would like to offer a Knightship to all of you, honorary or otherwise should you prefer to tread elsewhere."

Lancelot gaped, Percival's eyebrows raised nearly to his hairline, and Gwaine just stifled a laugh behind his hand, his expression thankfully not one of disdain at the notion. Balinor had paled and then flushed with embarrassment beneath his beard, Hunith rubbing his shoulder and leaning in to murmur something to him with a smile.

Arthur raised his goblet briefly to them before gesturing next to Gaius who held up better beneath the scrutiny, his years at court shining through loud and clear under the weight of his guests gazes. "Gaius... Your self imposed exile and prior deeds saved many a life, including mine... But also my sister's. Without her aid and the prowess you instilled in your student... I don't know where I would be. I would also like to extend the offer of Honorary Knighthood... if you'd have it. I think Sir Gaius sounds rather good, don't you?"

Gaius' eyes were wide before the final comment got to him, the man actually guffawing at the notion, his cheeks going as red as Balinor's had.

"Just think on it." Arthur chuckled, looking on to Morgana who was now sitting straighter and looking somehow taken by surprise. He supposed there had been no vision of this for her, Arthur thankful for that bit of luck. She deserved to be surprised.

"Next, it is my great joy to introduce to you my Heir Apparent: the Princess Morgana Pendragon." She looked fit to shout at him, her cheeks flaming as all eyes turned on her, the sorceress lifting her chin defiantly. If anyone thought to question it they kept quiet about it. "Not only has she aided me throughout this quest but aided others as well, helping both Caerleon and Gawant with her expertise."

Godwyn, Vortimer, and Annis all raised their goblets on that cue, nodding to her and earning a rather demure head bob from Morgana in return.

Arthur slid his gaze to Gwen, the woman regarding him curiously. They had not run afield of each other much aside from those Winter visits and consequently the time up till their siege but he'd grown fond of her. And he certainly could see the forest for the trees where she and Morgana were concerned. "I must warn you, Guinevere, that I foresee a ladyship in your future. Either now by my hand... or later by someone else's."

"Arthur!" Morgana's yelped, face even redder now. Guinevere's shock showed for a second before she pressed her hands over her own, giggling at the whole situation. Arthur only shrugged as the room devolved briefly into teasing and laughter over the scene.

"As I said to Gaius: just think about it... But your restoration work will be amply compensated as is befitting your efforts on top of the dues your family is owed for their aid."

Gwen managed to stop giggling long enough to air her thanks, her dark curls bouncing as she swiftly leaned over and buried her face against Morgana's arm, both of hers winding around it. For the moment Morgana looked mollified by the contact.

"Just one more introduction is due, as not only have I gained a sister... But a ward of my own." Hearing Mordred squeak was far too pleasing. He'd been keeping this out of his thoughts as much as possible to avoid the boy catching wind of his intent, the King beaming down at him. "Please give Lord Mordred a warm welcome to the Royal Household."

Mordred looked fit to scream, his eyes wide as the applause broke out.

"A rare thing to find you speechless, Mordred. Do you need me to return the favor, now?" The King teased, the Druid boy- his _ward_ sputtering before slapping a hand over his eyes, clearly overwhelmed.

Moving on to address Merlin was another thing entirely. Everyone else had been an easy matter by comparison.

Clearing his throat he tried not to stare too long, pushing himself hard to speak despite the trepidation that lurked. "Merlin... Is an enigma. If not for his prowess as a physician I would not have survived my ailments. All things after I was lucky to be granted, his friendship, his loyalty..."

His love.

Arthur felt his face getting hot at the thought, clearing his throat again as though that would dispell the stalling thought. "Though I know not what title to present you with that would express my gratitude... I hope you will stay in Camelot long enough for me to figure it out... and perhaps help us to build a better Kingdom than it had been before."

Merlin looked fit to burst, the dark haired man pressing his lips together as he withheld some kind of commentary that clearly did not suit the time, his eyes molten with an emotion that made Arthur suddenly feel like they were the only two people in the world for the few seconds he held the Warlock's gaze.

"Thank you, sire, you honor me beyond what I deserve." He finally said, entirely too humble for Arthur's tastes. There would be negotiation in their future, but first: good wine, good food, and merriment for all.

***

The talking really didn't happen like he'd hoped for, but Merlin's mouth ravishing his neck was more than enough to make up for that for the moment; the pair of them had practically crashed through the door before the Warlock had seized him by the tunic, shoving him up against it as the King gasped beneath the attention. Merlin had been giving him that same molten look all night, Arthur quick to beg off after the festivities had gotten in full swing, the wine flowing and the dancing becoming less and less coordinated.

He'd had a feeling that this would happen so he'd drank as little as he could, Arthur thankful for it as Merlin bit at the joint betwixt shoulder and neck and earned a moan for his trouble. The blonde couldn't imagine missing a bit of this to that dull haze that could've set in had he'd had any more. Gripping at Merlin's hips he pulled him closer, aligning their hips and grinding against the Warlock pointedly.

Merlin's gasp was music to his ears, the King pressing forward with more intent as the damnable Warlock bit him again, nearly snapping the laces of his tunic as he yanked the neck of it wider to get at his collarbone. " _Merlin_!"

"You've no idea, have you?" The taller man growled, sucking the skin and chasing the faint aches he'd left behind with his tongue. "You haven't the faintest what you do to me, standing up there, wearing that _crown_ -"

"It's _my_ crown." He huffed through a moan, grabbing at Merlin's arse as they continued on as they were, hopelessly fully clothed and not getting any barer. Arthur squeezed it thoughtfully, considering how different the shape of it was as Merlin continued to test his teeth against his neck.

"The crown _I_ made you," Merlin groaned, the sound ruining the blonde man's concentration and making his hips shove forward with more insistence than he'd been employing in the moments before. Gods he needed things off but letting go was unthinkable.

"And in the clothes _I_ dressed you in." The Warlock finished, suddenly pushing Arthur back flat with both magic and his actual hands, the King's wrists stuck on either side of his head against the wood. Stepping back Arthur finally got a good look at how consumed Merlin was, the heat he exuded from his gaze alone making his prick ache and strain against it's confines.

"The clothes _I'll_ take you out of." Merlin murmured, licking his lips as he stepped back into Arthur's space, the blasted man palming him through the fabric before setting to work on the lacing. The fleeting sensation made Arthur squirm, so close to begging for more he was shocked at himself.

"Mer _lin_..." He was only shushed in response, the Warlock easing the tension against his cock before hooking his index fingers into his waistband, rubbing back and forth teasingly before pulling down, Arthur a second off of barking out another complaint. How the man could confess to being overwhelmed by feelings for him and yet continue to tease Arthur like this was beyond him.

Breeches left around his thighs Merlin drew back up, a flick of his wrist making Arthur's tunic disappear and then reappear draped over the back of a nearby chair, the Warlock descending on him with a pleased hum. He went after Arthur's nipples first, licking and biting at one whilst he fondled the King's opposing pectoral, squeezing it and thumbing the rise in gentle mimicry of what his mouth was doing.

Arthur was getting the barest of friction where his cock was concerned, Merlin's leaned over pose only leaving his loose tunic to brush against the tip, the rough spun fabric doing nothing to ease his need to be touched. Transferring his attentions from one nipple to the other Merlin took pity on his King apparently, his hand descending from the posterity squeeze of his other pec before taking hold of his prick, the barest hint of saliva slicking his palm before a muttered spell slicked it properly.

The first pull made him sag in his invisible bonds, only his hips tensed as they pushed up into the hold, the King trying to speed things to a more bearable pace. The Warlock was stalwart, however, and continued to do things at his own leisure, Arthur's head knocking against the door with a particularly good stroke, the counterpoint of Merlin's teeth grazing against his pec adding something more he couldn't quite explain to the pleasure of it. " _Merlin_..."

"Arthur... _Goddess_ , Arthur, you're just..." Merlin muttered, looking up at him as he continued on, sounding breathless and strangely reverent. "You look..."

"Let me touch you, _damn it_ ," Arthur pushed out, hips pushing up of their own accord as he pulled against the unseen bonds to no avail. " _Please_ Merlin, let me-"

Suddenly the force dropped away and he seized the Warlock up, cupping his face and pulling him into a hard kiss, full of tongue and teeth in a way that just felt right, the King biting Merlin's full bottom lip and swallowing down his moans greedily as his own were caught up between them. Free to do as he wanted he raked his fingers down Merlin's back, hurriedly doing away with his belt and shoving his tunic up so he could properly pay homage to the creamy skin beneath, his movements stuttering with every upstroke Merlin made.

They came away gasping, Arthur hands clasped over his sides and Merlin's pressed against the small of his back and still over his cock. They were a perfect mess, the two of them, and Arthur's heart was light to think that this was his sight to see in the first place.

Swallowing hard he pulled Merlin's hand away, the Warlock leaning in with intent only to be forestalled by the King leaning back away from the imminent kiss. "I want you to..."

The words got caught, the taller man looking questioningly at him before Arthur took matters into his own hands. If words must fail him then he would do things as he'd done before: show, not tell.

Pecking Merlin on the lips he pulled his breeches back up and then actually spun the man to the side, scooping him up out of the blue and making for the bed chamber, Merlin squawking at the unexpected manhandling before he got his arms around the blonde's neck. "Arthur!?"

Kicking the door shut behind them Arthur crossed the floor and deposited Merlin onto the bed, kissing him again but still with a purpose, pointedly shoving at the Warlock's tunic to give him the right idea. Satisfied that he'd done enough to signal that he pulled away, going to the side table nearby to dig around in the drawer, finding the small, earthen ware pot inside. Turning back he found that Merlin was almost out of all his clothes, the man kicking his breeches away just as Arthur looked at him again.

Without a word he tossed the pot into Merlin's hands, the Warlock's eyes widening as (Arthur hoped) understanding dawned. Kicking his boots away the King stripped out of his last meager barrier, tossing the breeches to the side before stalking forward, standing between Merlin's knees and cupping his hips. "...please?"

Merlin swallowed audibly, the King biting his lip and holding in the desire to take back the request, to push for something simpler. The Warlock leaned in, resting his forehead against Arthur's as he spoke. "Dollophead... Of course I will."

The preparation period feels overwhelming to him, Merlin's slick fingers fucking into the King at a leisurely pace resembling the one before on his prick, Arthur holding his legs up and open with his hands behind his knees. It doesn't feel as odd or shameful as he'd been expecting, and like everything with Merlin somehow all of it feels natural, as though there was an "of course it's fine" in answer to everything he'd been worrying over.

"I can't believe you're mine." Merlin breathes, sounding just as overwhelmed as Arthur feels, the blonde man biting his bottom lip hard as pleasure crashes over him in waves, the motion of Merlin's hand destroying and rebuilding him by turns. "I dreamed about this... About being with you... Making you melt under my touch..."

His voice is deeper than normal, an almost raw quality to it with how much the emotion of the intimate moments have affected him. It's affected them both, but Arthur is beyond sentences for the moment, instead moaning in lieu of a real response. Merlin sucks a sharp breath in, leaning over him further and biting at his thigh. "I wondered for months... Fantasized about your voice, what you'd sound like... It's good you got all your bargaining out of the way, Arthur, because you won't be able to speak above a whisper for a week after I've had you."

Arthur feels fit to collapse beneath that statement, the blonde man unsure whether it's the fingers still thrusting or the words alone that make him shudder with ecstasy. He gasps and bucks when Merlin pulls his hand away, baffling himself with the ridiculous notion that he could get them back if he'd only followed the motion. The Warlock shuffles closer taking over the holding of one of Arthur's legs as he takes himself in hand, prick already slick as he presses the head up against Arthur.

The slide forward is exquisite torture and Arthur feels like the air is sucked from his lungs with it, Merlin knocking his other hand away to hold both legs up, allowing Arthur the freedom to clutch at his lover as he moved inexorably forward. His heartbeat is out of whack and he's breathless from the simple pleasure of it: the knowledge that he belongs to Merlin and has him in return. When Merlin's hips come flush to his he hauls the dark haired man down for a kiss, starting the rocking himself as his tongue slid against it's counterpart, the motion pulling a gasp from the man above.

Merlin pulls back after a fortifying few seconds and begins their real pace, fucking into Arthur carefully before ramping things up, his thrusts getting harder the more confident he became, practically punching moans out of the King with each move forward. It seemed only natural to allow himself the honesty, Arthur not holding back a single sound for the Warlock to enjoy in full, the muttering and cursing that Merlin did into his neck indicating just how much it was effecting him.

Merlin pushed himself back up onto his hands, sitting back as he grasped at Arthur's hips, pulling him back onto his cock as he worked harder still, the King shouting as he suddenly found himself cumming without warning, the altered angle rubbing the tip over the perfect spot to throw him over the edge. With a final shove forward Merlin caught himself on his elbows over Arthur, his hips trembling as he came inside the shorter man, panting as though he'd just run a marathon.

Once Arthur came back to his senses he wrapped both his arms and legs around his lover, holding him close as they both came down from that wonderful high. When their bodies were finally under control Merlin pulled out, flopping down beside the King with a satisfied sigh, grinning like the cat who got the cream just before he kissed Arthur's shoulder.

"...everything you dreamed about?" Arthur finally asked, irritated by how meek he sounded. Slinging an arm around the blonde man's middle Merlin just smiled brightly.

"Well... you're not quite as hoarse as I'd hoped... But we'll work on that."

***

In the wee hours of the morning Arthur woke to early dawnlight, Camelot quiet save for the most over zealous of roosters, their early calls echoing on still air up from the lower town. Merlin lay before him on his belly, one arm tucked beneath his pillow and the other draped carelessly across Arthur's side.

It struck him in that quiet moment that he felt at ease... at home even, like this. Warm and secure in the loose embrace, all at right with his small world.

Perhaps that conversation would come over breakfast, where Arthur would offer the positions of manservant, Court Sorcerer, and even (the one that he'd been quietly hoping for) Prince Consort to the beautiful man before him. But for now he could appreciate him as he was in that moment: just Merlin, finally apart of his world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THAT'S IT! IT'S DONE!
> 
> I'm speechless and also full of things to say!! This has been such an insane journey for me, I've never finished writing a chapter fic and for this to be over and done with I'm just agog! Thank you to everyone who commented, it kept me going despite everything that's gone on!
> 
> This whole thing started as a sort of AU I cooked up out of a joke! I saw a picture of Bradley stretching from back in one of those Soccer Six events and thought he looked a bit like Ariel on the rock during Part of Your World's reprise (which I may have had on repeat while finishing this out!) so I joked about it on my blog and to my wife and from there it just got out of hand. If you didn't notice the tags till now it's been a day one Little Mermaid AU just... really picked over for it's themes?? Arthur's muteness presented an interesting challenge in writing I hadn't experienced before and I feel like it really adds something different over all to have him unable to speak for most of this!! I'm just so excited to gush about this idea outside of writing it, I'm sorry if this all sounds redundant after you've gone through reading it!!
> 
> Gauis' part was really the hinge that made this happen, as in trying to come up with a premise of how to get Morgana to her position in the story I had to find a vehicle, and I feel like if Gaius had been a braver man in the show things would've gone a lot different, so... Gaius taking Morgana away stemmed from that thought! The other AU elements fell into place from there... Just then I got stuck on the chapter that introduced Mordred for a few years! But then when I came back to it one day something just clicked and from Mordred's rapport with Arthur things just grew and grew and I'm just...
> 
> I'm so happy to be done! It's been so fun!!! Thank you all so much!!! Really I never intended for it to be this big! To think I was going to have the climax in a sort of reworking of Kanon's attack on Ealdor is... It's so odd to think of now! It's so far afield from where things ended up and I'm so glad for it!!


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